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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29244354">flower head</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/littytiddy/pseuds/littytiddy'>littytiddy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Everyone Has Issues, Family Angst, Family Dynamics, Fictional Disease, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, POV Multiple, Phil and Techno are old friends, Road Trips, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Traumatized TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), everyone makes mistakes, follows all the canon up until season 2 finale, phil is still his father figure he just never actually adopted him, techno isn't really their sibling, tubbo's not really in this one alot but he's in some of the flashbacks lol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:46:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29244354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/littytiddy/pseuds/littytiddy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I think we know what’s wrong with you— and I think I know how to cure it,” Phil is trying his hardest to look encouraging, and reaches a tentative hand towards Tommy's shoulder. He halts, his fingers stilling in the air for a moment. Eventually, he sighs and withdraws his hand as if he were burned.</i>
</p>
<p> <i>Tommy's scowl deepens. He doesn't trust Phil, not one bit. </i></p>
<p>  <i>“So? What do we do?” Tommy says, his tone aloof and stubborn. Phil gives him a pitying look, and Tommy doesn’t know what to make of it.</i></p>
<p>  <i>“We’re going home, Tommy.”</i></p>
<hr/>
<p>Flower Head is a fatal disease caused by extreme bouts of nostalgia and a longing for a past that is no longer possible. Flowers will begin to sprout from the scalp, slowly making their way to the eyes, face, and neck, blinding and eventually suffocating you.</p>
<p>Of course, Tommy falls victim to the illness.</p>
<p>The only cure? To bring him back to where his fondest memories lie.</p>
<p>It's time for their family to go home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson, TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Completed stories I've read, Cute MCYT, Found family to make me feel something, SBI because I crave found family, fave fics i gotta read again when they are done, no-rpf dsmp collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prolouge: so you lost your head inside your heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is an entirely original fictional disease idea that I thought would really fit the sleep bois' dynamic in the dsmp. Hope ya'll enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“There is an odd man on the roof.”</em>
</p><p>Technoblade silently thanks Ranboo for the warning, but the sound of footsteps on the snow and the heavy spruce door slamming shut were already enough to send Technoblade striding into the house.</p><p>A sigh escapes him. This had to be fucking Tommy. Only he would be dumb enough to steal from The Blood God himself.</p><p>Only a few steps deeper into the room, and he finds the boy hiding between a small crack of space. Under the window, in between his brewing stand and the stonecutter. A long bout of silence passes as the two of them stare at each other.</p><p>Tommy seems much more kempt now that his exile was over. His clothes were no longer torn, and the enchanted netherite armor adorning him was proof enough of how much better he was doing. He still looked pathetic cramped in between the wooden planks, though.</p><p>“Hey, man!” Tommy starts because of course he does, “—Hey, uh, Technoblade!”</p><p>His cheerful demeanor is almost enough for Technoblade to ignore the nervous glance he sends towards the floor.</p><p>“Hey!” Techno copies his tone, voice almost mocking as he continues, “You having fun in there?”</p><p>Another stretch of silence fills the house, Tommy sputtering anxiously.</p><p>“W-Well, y’know, I’ve got a bit of a fight coming up— don’t know if you’ve heard about it, it’s kind of big news around the town, so I’ve been—” he takes a break to breathe, “Basically, there’s this fella called Dream, and you might remember, when I used to live with you, I signed this contract that said I could come back here 14 days after my release, and it’s been less than 14 days <em>and I just came back to grab my belongings</em>—”</p><p>Tommy cuts himself off, finally slipping out from between the crack of space, carefully making his way to the edge of the room.</p><p>“I don’t remember this contract, I—” Techno begins, only to be interrupted by Tommy.</p><p>“I know that this looks worse than it is, but— what is ‘Techno’s Compass’ by the way?” Tommy suddenly asks, his hand burying deep into his pockets, emerging with a compass with the familiar glow of enchantment.</p><p>“Wait, you have my compass? Bro, why are robbing my personal— what is this?” Technoblade should have known better. Tommy had always had a penchant for stealing.</p><p><em>“A bit of a kleptomaniac,” </em>Phil had explained to him, years and years ago when Tommy was still so much younger.</p><p>Unsheathing his sword, Technoblade steadies himself into a familiar posture, his fighting stance. It’s intimidating, and he knows it. He isn’t planning on fighting the kid, but sometimes Tommy needs a little push now and then.</p><p>“Basically, uhm. Promise not to kill me immediately,” Tommy backs himself up into the wall, actual fear beginning to grace his face.</p><p>Techno’s stare doesn’t falter, “I make no such promise.”</p><p>Tommy looks at him for a long moment, searching for <em>something</em> that Technoblade can’t seem to decipher. He mustn’t have found what he was looking for, because he gives the floor another defiant glance before finally speaking.</p><p>“Essentially, I have a big fight against Dream tomorrow,” Tommy says, voice a mixture of fear and pride, “And I might…I might actually <em>die</em> permanently,” he scowls, as if wanting to say something else.</p><p>Technoblade doesn’t offer a reply. A fight with Dream? He didn’t know about this. He didn’t know Tommy would be having a battle tomorrow. Didn’t know that he might <em>die</em> tomorrow. A brief sting of guilt blooms in his chest, but he refuses to give in.</p><p>Techno still doesn’t forgive Tommy. He <em>can’t</em> forgive him.</p><p>Even if the kid were to die.</p><p>It seems as if Tommy reads his mind when he says, “Let me be sincere,” he’s sighing, staring into Technoblade’s emotionless white pupils, “I know I kind of fucked up with this, Technoblade. I’m very sorry for the things you think I did wrong—”</p><p>There’s that pang of guilt again, and this time, Technoblade nearly gives in, nearly forgives him—</p><p>“—which isn’t that many, but anyway!” Tommy stammers, laughing to himself, and Techno chastises himself for thinking that the idiot could so much as apologize properly.</p><p>“But,” Tommy begins again, and Techno can’t tell if he’s actually being genuine, “I’m happy to redo all those things after tomorrow. Unless I die.”</p><p>Tommy laughs bitterly, “Which at that point I’ll be dead, so—”</p><p>“I feel like this whole ‘coming to my base to apologize’ thing would have had more weight if I hadn’t had to chase you down and catch you yoinking my things,” Technoblade says, all hints of sympathy gone.</p><p>He knows that Tommy’s just using him again. Knows that the kid just wants to use his stuff again. That’s all he is to Tommy. Someone he can steal from, use, and throw away. The reminder makes Technoblade scowl. The only inkling of emotion he’s shown so far.</p><p>“Well, I reckon it’s time for me to go,” Tommy sing-songs, inching closer to the door. Techno sputters, watching as the boy slides out into the snow outside.</p><p>“We’re gonna laugh about this someday!” Tommy calls, waving goodbye as he runs across the snow, towards the far horizon.</p><p>Technoblade watches him go, frowning to himself. He knows he could go after him. Nobody could outrun Techno, after all. However, knowing that Tommy would have to fight Dream tomorrow…</p><p>It’s enough to make him go still, his pure white eyes tracing Tommy’s figure as he flees farther and farther away. Nobody had ever really beaten Dream in a fight before. The only one who had ever done so was, well, Technoblade himself.</p><p>Tommy had never been the best at fighting. Techno knew that if he ever said this out loud, the kid would throw a multitude of swears and screams his way, but it was true. Especially against an opponent like Dream, it would take a miracle for Tommy to win.</p><p>Tommy was most likely going to <em>die</em> tomorrow.</p><p>Panic and worry begin to rise like bile in Techno’s throat. He defiantly shakes his head, trying to rid himself of any emotion. <em>Why did he feel like this?</em> He should hate Tommy. He betrayed him, threw away his trust—</p><p>But Technoblade knows there’s more to it than that.</p><p>Suddenly, a memory begins to resurface. A past buried so deep within the recesses of his mind, he could barely remember it. A home, hidden deep in the woods. A younger Tommy, with crooked teeth and a type of energy that made him bounce off the walls. A happier, more passive Phil. An adolescent Wilbur, shy, quiet, and not <em>dead—</em></p><p>At that thought, he pushes the memory away.</p><p>Exhaling, he strides back into his home. He’ll let Tommy keep whatever it was he had stolen.</p><p>He’d probably need it more than Techno did.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Wilbur feels something achingly familiar.</p><p>He scowls. There isn’t anything familiar in the afterlife. Well, except for—</p><p>
  <em>“Hey loverboy, ya feel that?”</em>
</p><p>Schlatt’s voice echoes throughout the empty space. Wilbur’s frown deepens. Of course he felt it. A small pull, as if he were wading through water. He can almost feel the ripples, the gentle lull of a reservoir as he moves closer. The metaphorical water begins to shift around him, and he picks up the familiar scent of divination and magic.</p><p>The water pushes him forwards. The smell of alchemy gets even stronger, but it's overtaken by a warmth. Not a fiery heat, Wilbur notes, but a sort of comfortable embrace. The water he floats through branches off into multiple little rivers. Almost akin to veins. Like veins of blood.</p><p>The blood is pulsing. Warm. Alive.</p><p>
  <em>But not for long.</em>
</p><p>Wilbur finally opens his eyes. He nearly shivers, despite being dead.</p><p>He sees Tommy, waves of purple awash over him, coating him in the type of enchantment that only a potion can provide. The smell of magic is so strong, Wilbur’s eyes begin to sting.</p><p>A flash of green, and the chilling white of a mask. <em>Dream.</em></p><p><em>Tommy must be fighting Dream</em>, Wilbur’s mind supplies.</p><p>A type of primal fear overcomes him. A fear that he wouldn’t have felt if he were still alive. No, this is something Wilbur could only feel in death. Something akin to clairvoyance, an extrasensory perception.</p><p>Somewhere behind him, someone laughs. Wilbur doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is.</p><p>
  <em>“Looks like that brother of yours is going to die, Wilbur.”</em>
</p><p>And Wilbur hates him. He hates him for being right.</p><p>Wilbur can feel the warmth around him faltering. Schlatt was right, Tommy was going to die. Wilbur attempts to cry but recalls that ghosts melt in water. He begins to cry anyway.</p><p>The warmth was subsiding now, a coldness in the air so dreadful Wilbur wants to double into himself. Tommy was <em>dying.</em></p><p>Tommy didn’t belong here. He deserved to live. But the afterlife was contorting, preparing a space for Tommy within its endless depths, and Wilbur is sobbing now, tears etching like acid into his cheeks. Tommy deserved to live, deserved to—</p><p>
  <em>Suddenly, the warmth steadies. </em>
</p><p>A pulse, ringing through the walls, reverberating the news of Tommy’s survival. Wilbur lets a painful sob wrack through him. He was alive. <em>He was alive.</em></p><p><em>“Damn. Woulda been fun if he was here though, right?”</em> Schlatt muses. Wilbur ignores him, a type of euphoria filling him.</p><p>Another scent makes its way to him. Of wet, earthy grass. Wilbur’s ears begin to tingle, and he strains to listen. A familiar tune sings to him. A song so old, he can barely recall the last time he had heard it. It pulls at him, and as always, Wilbur follows.</p><p>The music grows louder now, and so does the smell of grass. It’s so close, Wilbur can nearly touch it. Eventually, he does.</p><p>There is grass under his numb fingertips. There is the gentle sway of music in his ears. Music from the discs. Looking up, he sees Tommy, on his favorite little bench, Tubbo beside him as always.</p><p>“We won,” Tommy turns to Tubbo, voice so full of joy and relief it makes Wilbur’s heart swell. Wilbur smiles for the first time in a long time.</p><p>
  <em>“And you’re not dead.”</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Tommy was here yesterday.”</p><p>Phil looks up imploringly, Techno staring at the table as if it had personally wronged him. They were having dinner, the hot steam rising from their potatoes. If you were to listen hard enough, you would be able to hear the soft buzzing of bees and the howls of about thirty individually-named wolves.</p><p>Technoblade doesn’t attempt to explain further, so Phil takes the first step.</p><p>“Really? Was he stealin’ your stuff again?” Phil laughs a bit, hoping to lighten the mood. It doesn’t seem to work as Technoblade scowls at the table some more.</p><p>“Yes, actually,” Techno replies, silence filling the room once again. Not an uncomfortable silence, of course. <em>Never</em> uncomfortable.</p><p>It’s Phil’s turn to glower now. Years of friendship have taught Philza the little nuances in Technoblade’s character. He can tell from a glance exactly what the piglin felt. This time was no different.</p><p>“You worried about him?” Phil asks. He knows Techno will deny it. Tommy and Techno’s relationship was about as turbulent as peace was on this server. Phil couldn’t really judge, though. He and Tommy rarely acted like father and son. At least, not anymore.</p><p>Technoblade glares, “No, of course not, I just—”</p><p> Pausing, he takes a deep breath. Phil, as always, waits patiently.</p><p>“Ranboo came to me earlier today. He told me that everyone on the server were saying their goodbyes to Tommy and you—" Techno cuts himself off again, seemingly pondering something.</p><p>Phil tries to continue his sentence for him, “Saying goodbyes? D’you mean for the fight with Dream?”</p><p>“Yes, exactly, and you— wait, how did you know about that?” Techno gives him a long stare, and Phil cocks his head to the side, not quite understanding.</p><p>“Know about what?”</p><p>“The fight with Dream. I just assumed you…” Technoblade stares at his hands, twiddling a wooden spoon between his fingers, “— didn’t know because you didn’t say goodbye to Tommy.”</p><p>Phil laughs again, “Why, did <em>you</em> say goodbye to ‘em?”</p><p>Techno’s tone is almost childish when he says, “No, I didn’t.”</p><p>“Well, I didn’t either,” Phil replies with an air of finality.</p><p>“But <em>why?</em> Isn’t he… isn’t he your son?” Technoblade supplies, unadulterated confusion resting on his face.</p><p>“Of course he’s my son,” Phil says sharply.</p><p>A son he hadn’t spoken to in months. A son he had <em>abandoned.</em> </p><p>Phil internally shakes his head. No, he was doing the right thing. Phil simply couldn’t ignore the terror he felt when he saw Tommy give everything up for a dead country or a plastic disc. It seemed far too similar to the crazed stare Wilbur had given him as he pleaded to die.</p><p>Tommy will understand soon enough.</p><p>A heavy silence hangs in the air. Techno looks afraid, like he didn’t want Phil to snap at him. Phil would never snap at him. Technoblade’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Phil can see the worry that the piglin is trying to conceal. Of course, it was difficult not to worry. Both he and Techno hadn’t yet heard the results of Tommy’s fight with Dream and it was easy to assume the worst.</p><p>After a long while, Philza smiles, “I know my own son like the back of my hand, Techno. You wanna know why I didn’t say goodbye to him?”</p><p>Phil understands how Techno must feel about Tommy. Anger, but also care. Indifference, but the longing for a truce to be found. Philza feels the same, feels it every damn day.</p><p>“— because I knew he wouldn’t lose to Dream,” Phil finishes with a proud smile.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>“You are a ridiculous child!”</em>
</p><p>Tommy couldn’t help but feel dread at the sound of Wilbur yelling at him. It reminded him too much of when they were hiding in a little hole in the dirt. Reminded him too much of Wilbur shrieking about them blowing up L’manberg.</p><p>All he wanted was for him and Tubbo to sit together and listen to the discs. To relish in their victory, but even that couldn’t last.</p><p>“I am not a fucking child!” Tommy yells adamantly. They haven’t fought like this in a long time.</p><p>It’s easier when Tommy gets to fight back and have a screaming match with Wilbur. It made it seem as if they were brothers again, arguing simply for the fun of it. Unlike when they built Pogtopia together, when Wilbur’s crazed ramblings rang through the ravine like bells and Tommy couldn’t get so much as a word in.</p><p>This was better. This was easy.</p><p>But it still hurt, it hurt in a way that Tommy couldn’t quite describe.</p><p>He continues to shout and swear until he can’t even hear what Wilbur’s saying to him. Why did Tommy even <em>want</em> to resurrect him? He knew that Wilbur had ruined everything, and he knew him coming back would probably cause another war, but he couldn’t help but hope.</p><p>Was he being selfish? Most likely. Tommy wasn’t afraid to admit that he often didn’t think rationally.</p><p>Tommy grunts frustratedly as Wilbur’s voice gets louder than his, their argument hitting its zenith. If only it were easier. If only there weren’t any battles to fight or wars to win. A memory suddenly surfaces of a little yellow house, shrouded by trees. Farms with little stables flanking its sides. A simpler time, when fighting was something that hardly mattered to Tommy.</p><p>A small stab of pain erupts from Tommy’s scalp, but his thoughts don’t cease. Two bedrooms, a small kitchen, and a guestroom. The guestroom was often empty but Tommy remembers how big the bed was. A little guitar, scratched and old. Wooden stands of armor, glinting with charms and enchantments.</p><p>The pain grows stronger. A training area, marked in the dirt. Flowers, bees and honey. A brother, a father, a friend, and a mentor—</p><p>
  <em>“I’m proud of you, Tommy.”</em>
</p><p>Wilbur says it in such a gentle way, it’s enough for Tommy to forget whatever he was saying or thinking, and he returns to the present. For a moment he’s speechless, and he can’t help but sigh defeatedly at the compliment.</p><p>“See you soon, Wilbur,” he smiles, and for a second it feels like everything is normal again. As if Wilbur wasn’t dead, and Techno and Phil didn’t hate him, and there was no Dream to worry about and—</p><p><em>“See you soon,” </em>Wilbur calls, his voice fading into nothing.</p><p>Tommy lets out an exhausted sigh and turns to Tubbo. His friend offers him a reassuring smile, having not said anything for the duration of Wilbur and Tommy’s argument. Seeing Tubbo alive and grinning lightens his mood a bit. For a long while, they sit together at the bench.</p><p>Tommy tries to ignore the throbbing pain in his scalp the entire time.</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. and the weighty world it tore you apart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy meets up with his family.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Technoblade feels an odd peace when he’s outside.</p>
<p>The gentle wintery breeze, blowing past his cheeks and through his rose-colored hair. The crinkling of snow beneath his feet, crunching under his boots. It was the quiet he loved most of all, though. Too much sound hurt his head, especially if the voices were awake. The white mountains provided him with some refuge, the constant silence comforting for whenever the voices got too loud.</p>
<p>A bee buzzes close to his ear and Technoblade responds to the bug’s humming by gently pushing it away with a finger. He was checking on the bees again. It was simple work, and he liked it. He used to make fun of Phil for doing this sort of stuff, but now he could understand the appeal. It felt nice to lose yourself in a menial task.</p>
<p>Picking up a wooden frame from the bee’s little hive, Techno inspects it, looking at the miniscule cells of honey. As he does so, his mind wanders, causing a small voice to filter in. Techno holds back a frustrated groan as a few voices start to resonate throughout his head, the voices quickly growing in number, with eventually a thousand voices yelling at him.</p>
<p>“For Prime’s sake, what do you guys want?” Techno mumbles, rubbing his temples as the voices raise in volume, all chanting a cacophony of: <em>Tommy. Tommy needs help. Trouble. </em></p>
<p>Technoblade nods absentmindedly, not paying the voices any mind as he continues searching for the tell-tale little caps of wax on the honeycombs. Whatever it was, it was something Tommy could deal with himself. The kid <em>had</em> beaten Dream, after all.</p>
<p>Ranboo had told him the results of the fight earlier that morning. Techno would be lying if he said that he wasn’t proud. He remembers teaching a younger Tommy how to hold a sword and taking him out to fight some mobs when Phil wasn’t around. The kid would always run ahead of him, injuring himself.</p>
<p>Techno recalls how he’d comment on Tommy’s form. Fixing the kid’s grip on his sword, adjusting the way he’d hold a bow, and lecturing him on how to nock arrows. Closing his eyes, Techno attempts to deafen the voices as they coo and call him wholesome.</p>
<p>The memory makes him smile sadly as he slides the frames of honey back into the hive, putting the lid back in place. Those days were long gone, so it was best not to think about them.</p>
<p>All of a sudden, the voices seemingly yell at the same time.</p>
<p>Techno covers his ears on instinct, the voices so loud they almost burst his eardrums despite them being in his head. Roars of: <em>Tubbo. Tommy needs help. Tubbo coming to house. </em>The bees seemingly buzz louder, their incessant whizzing adding to the unbearable mess of noise in Techno’s ears.</p>
<p>“What? The hell’s up with Tommy?” Technoblade attempts to ask above the racket, startling as a forceful knock resonates from the bee farm’s front door.</p>
<p>“Techno! Techno, are you here?” A voice calls, and Techno immediately draws his sword. As he does so, the voices finally quiet down. The anonymous speaker doesn’t waste another second as he flings the door open, and Techno takes in the familiar brown hair and haphazardly buttoned green shirt.</p>
<p>“<em>Tubbo?</em> What’re you doing here?” Technoblade drops his voice into an angry growl. If Tubbo wanted another fight, if he wanted to execute him again—</p>
<p>Stepping closer, Techno stops in his tracks. Tubbo looked terrible, sweating and huffing as if he had ran all the way to Techno’s house.</p>
<p>“Oh, thank Prime. You need to come with me, Technoblade,” Tubbo pleads, nearly in tears.</p>
<p>“What? What is it?” Techno asks, panic beginning to rise despite himself.</p>
<p>“There’s something really wrong with Tommy.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Hey asshole, that dumb kid dying again or something?” </em>
</p>
<p>Schlatt laughs at his own statement, manifesting behind Wilbur.</p>
<p>Wilbur turns and scowls at him, but refuses to retort back. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good. The afterlife was tossing and turning, the spaces of black and shadow were opening up, creating a large expanse for a new soul. <em>Tommy’s</em> soul.</p>
<p>Blood pulsing, heart slowing. Wilbur could feel it all; the labored breaths, the straining of the lungs, as if he was the one dying. Dream must have poisoned Tommy. Tricked him somehow, probably threw a strange potion at him and—</p>
<p>“—Wilbur? W-Wilbur, are you there?” Tommy’s voice resounds through the endless void of the afterlife. Wilbur follows his voice like a lifeline, traversing through the darkness with only Tommy’s voice as a guide.</p>
<p>Beats of the heart. Breaths of the lungs. His hands, shaking. Wilbur trails after them like a bat yearning for vibrations. Wilbur can nearly smell the overworld now; the sweet and musty carrots, the acrid oil burning from the lamps, and the almost nauseatingly strong scent of flowers. This must be Tommy’s house. Though, Wilbur can’t seem to recall a time when Tommy’s home had any flowers nearby.</p>
<p>Wilbur feels that warmth again, and he grasps at it.</p>
<p>Looking down, he finds that he had materialized in Tommy’s home, at the foot of his bed. Wilbur reaches for Tommy’s hand automatically, and he can faintly feel the kid’s pulse thrumming away through the groove of his wrist. Wilbur attempts to tighten his hold, but his own hand feels almost insensate, as if he were on anesthetic.</p>
<p>The sensation of touch as a ghost could be best described as <em>numb</em>. Every inch of Wilbur’s body had been deprived of sensation. Physical contact with objects and people from the overworld felt restricted.</p>
<p>Wilbur couldn’t exactly feel Tommy’s skin, but he can feel the warmth of life and the thumps of a heart beat resonating from the boy, and that was enough.</p>
<p>“Wilbur…” Tommy drones, throat sounding raw. Wilbur snaps his head up, ready to offer him some words of comfort and encouragement, when he notices the five little flowers sprouted from Tommy’s head.</p>
<p>Wilbur finally ascertains where the strong scent of flowers from earlier had come from.</p>
<p>Any words he had thought to say die on his tongue, and Wilbur can only stare at the buds in awe and confusion. They were poppy flowers, a stark red against Tommy’s soft blonde hair. Tommy says nothing, offering Wilbur no explanation.</p>
<p>Tentatively reaching out a hand, Wilbur touches one of the flowers. Its petals are soft and dewy, like any other flower. Wilbur trails his hand to the stem, searching for the roots. Tommy flinches at this, offering a short grunt of pain. Wilbur whispers an apology, but keeps his hand there. The stem seemingly digs into the boy’s scalp, its roots nowhere to be found.</p>
<p>“How… did this happen to you? Did Dream do this?” Wilbur asks, casting Tommy a worried gaze.</p>
<p>“I don’t… really know,” Tommy replies, blinking his eyes closed, “It hurts, Will.”</p>
<p>Wilbur’s spectral heart aches, and he draws Tommy into a tight embrace.</p>
<p>“I’ll get you help. Don’t worry, okay?” Wilbur smiles reassuringly, “Where’s Tubbo?”</p>
<p>Tommy brings a palm to his forehead, “He left and got Techno,” he mutters softly, looking pained. Wilbur swears that he sees one of the flowers grow a little taller, but he doesn’t say anything.</p>
<p>“Good,” Wilbur nods, giving Tommy another quick hug, “I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll get Phil.”</p>
<p>“Phil? N-No—” Tommy starts, only to swiftly bring a hand to the back of his head. A wet sob leaves his throat and Wilbur watches in horror as another flower slowly sprouts from his skull, a bead of blood forming at the base of its stem.</p>
<p>Wilbur shushes him, “I need to get you more help, Tommy.”</p>
<p>Tommy nods resignedly, dazed from the pain.</p>
<p>“I promise I’ll come back,” Wilbur whispers.</p>
<p>He spares Tommy a longing glance before vanishing.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now calm down, Will. Tell me what’s wrong.”</p>
<p>Phil grunts, his wings straining against the wind.</p>
<p>His eyes blink closed as he passes through a cloud, the air around him smelling misty and damp. Wilbur’s numinous voice surrounds him as he flies, and although hearing the voice of his son would normally be a happy affair, Philza feels nothing but dread.</p>
<p>“I-I don’t know, Phil—” Wilbur cries at him from seemingly everywhere and nowhere at the same time, “I think this might be Dream’s doing. Tommy just- He’s got these flowers growing out of his head—”</p>
<p>Phil’s eyes widen, and his wings freeze for a moment from shock, “Flowers? Did you say he had <em>flowers</em> growing outta his head?”</p>
<p>“Y-Yeah. D’you know about it?” Wilbur asks, his tone hopeful. Philza almost doesn’t reply. He can’t bring himself to say it out loud. This had happened to Tommy? <em>His own son?</em></p>
<p>“Phil? Please man, you gotta tell me. I’m kinda panicking here,” Wilbur exclaims. Phil shakes his head, his wings gracefully folding against his back as he lands with practiced ease on the space outside Tommy’s home.</p>
<p>“I’ll… I’ll tell you later, Will,” Phil can’t tell Wilbur, not yet. It was for his own good.</p>
<p>That was a lie. If anything, it was for <em>Phil’s</em> own good that he not tell anyone the real cause of Tommy’s sudden illness.</p>
<p>Phil suddenly notices that Carl was there too, grazing at the grass surrounding Tommy’s house. Techno and Tubbo must have arrived already. Wilbur had mentioned to him that they would be here.</p>
<p>Philza strides into the stone-built home, Wilbur materializing next to him quietly. Giving his son a passing glance, he notices how much he physically differs from Ghostbur. Wilbur still wore the clothes he had died in, the chestnut trench coat looking torn and threadbare, and his white sweater underneath was covered in dried blood.</p>
<p>Phil withdraws his gaze from the vicinity of Wilbur’s stab wound. The sight still made him a bit sick.</p>
<p>Inside, there awaited Technoblade and Tubbo.</p>
<p>Techno only offers Wilbur a tired gaze before heading straight for Phil, “I hope you know what this is about, Phil, because I sure as hell don’t.”</p>
<p>Phil casts him a worried look, “I think I might already have an idea.”</p>
<p>Stepping closer to Tommy, he comes face to face with Tubbo, who is sitting at the foot of the bed. Phil still couldn’t quite understand the current relationship he had with Tubbo. They were often on the other side of the battlefield, and had even fought directly against each other numerous times.</p>
<p>Tubbo was similar to Tommy in a lot of ways. Strayed from the truth and fighting for the wrong things. Phil still had qualms with this kid that he knew would never be forgiven.</p>
<p>But Phil knew when to be cordial, and Tubbo did as well. When they had tried resurrecting Wilbur, they had formed a temporary truce. They can do so again.</p>
<p>As if he had read his mind, Tubbo nods at him, stepping aside and finally allowing Philza a proper look at Tommy. He had hoped it wasn’t true, but the thin poppy flowers jutting from Tommy’s head were right there, swaying a bit as Tommy looked at Phil with tired eyes.</p>
<p>Ancient texts and scrolls had mentioned this type of disease before, and Phil had become well accustomed to it as he read through countless paragraphs detailing death, blood, and flowers. Phil had even seen this disease form in front of his very eyes during his time in the infantry. </p>
<p>Philza had seen men in war die because of this, and he was aware that there was no ready cure.</p>
<p>
  <em>Except for…</em>
</p>
<p>Phil sighs. He needs to talk to Techno and Wilbur about this.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy’s head hurt like hell.</p>
<p>Phil, Wilbur and Technoblade were surrounding him, casting him worried glances. He wishes they weren’t there. For some reason the sight of them makes him sick, and that wasn’t a metaphor. Tommy turns to Tubbo, who seemed to be his only source of comfort.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry Tommy, Phil’s gonna fix this,” Tubbo tells him, and Tommy almost believes him, if it weren’t for the way the other boy’s hands were shaking.</p>
<p>“I wish you hadn’t brought them,” Tommy drawls, squinting his eyes as a stinging pain erupts from the back of his head. From his peripheral vision, he can make out Philza, dragging Wilbur and Techno into the corner of the room.</p>
<p>Tubbo is quiet for a moment, glancing at the space above Tommy’s head. At the space where a small patch of poppies had grown. The reminder of the flowers’ existence sends a prickling hurt down Tommy’s neck.</p>
<p>“I-I’m sorry. I… didn’t know what to do,” Tubbo finally replies in a low voice, “I think they’re gonna be staying here for a bit.”</p>
<p>Tommy sighs, bringing his gaze to the three men huddled in the corner of his room. From this far, he can’t make out what they’re saying, but he sees the worry in their expressions. Frowning, his eyes settle on Philza, and his mind supplies him with a raging hurt he had felt yesterday.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t Phil say goodbye to me, Tubbo?” Tommy whispers. Bitterness settles in his heart, the amount of anger he had felt yesterday regarding Phil had almost been enough to rival his hatred of Dream. His voice is so soft that Tubbo mustn’t have heard him.</p>
<p>“What did you say?” Tubbo asks, bowing his head closer to the bed to hear Tommy better.</p>
<p>Tommy shakes his head and smiles, “It’s nothing.”</p>
<p>Tubbo didn’t need to know about this. Tommy could tell how much stress the other boy had already been put through, having to deal with his best friend’s strange new disease and running across the entire server to Techno’s house without a horse. Tommy could deal with this by himself.</p>
<p>He had to deal with everything by himself all the time, didn’t he?</p>
<p>Resentment floods into Tommy’s mind like a dam breaking, and woeful assumptions quickly follow. Phil didn’t seem to care about him potentially dying yesterday, so why did he care now? And then there were Technoblade and Wilbur, who carried an air of danger that Tommy couldn’t help but be wary of.</p>
<p>This family of his, so broken and unstable, now gathered under his roof. It all felt so surreal, almost more surreal than the flowers budding from Tommy’s head.</p>
<p>
  <em>When was the last time they had been a proper family?  </em>
</p>
<p>Tommy closes his eyes, and recollects the scattered pieces of his childhood.</p>
<p>
  <em>A room, wooden and cozy. Tommy liked it. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tommy had taken note of his surroundings. A guitar, stashed in the corner of the room, scratched and old. A single bed, small and unkempt. Shelves of books with multicolored spines and fonts so small Tommy could barely make sense of them.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Dad, I don’t want him in my room!” a boy’s voice shouted. Tommy had been scared and hid himself behind a much taller figure.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Will, don’t say that. He’s your brother now,” an older voice retorted, making Tommy beam to himself. Brother. He had a brother now. And a father, too.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“My brother?” the boy called Wilbur sounded scandalized, “We caught him stealing from us just yesterday!”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tommy snickered. It wasn’t his fault that they had so much nice stuff. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>His father sighed, “We’ve talked about this, Wilbur. He needs us,” At his tone, Wilbur deflated. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Can’t he stay in Techno’s room?” Wilbur pleaded. Tommy’s ears had perked upon hearing the name.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Technoblade? The Blade lives in your house?” Tommy had heard of the piglin before. People had gossiped about the warrior in almost every village and town Tommy had been to. Despite Techno’s young age, he had been renowned as a war hero. They had whispered that he was on his way to divination— to becoming a god.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilbur had laughed, “Yeah, and I’ve trained with him.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Cool,” Tommy whispered in awe.</em>
</p>
<p>That was a nice memory, one of Tommy’s favorites.</p>
<p>In the present, everyone stills as another flower sprouts from Tommy’s head.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Techno had been wracking his head for answers the moment he stepped into Tommy’s home.</p>
<p>He must’ve seen this type of disease before. Technoblade’s been fighting in wars and battles since he could remember, and he swears he’d seen a few soldiers dying, twisting in their cots with flowers protruding from their skulls.</p>
<p>Seeing Philza enter Tommy’s house had felt like a miracle. He’d know what to do. Phil <em>always</em> knew what to do.</p>
<p>Wilbur was beside him, and Technoblade had reeled a bit at the sight. It was the <em>real</em> Wilbur, not the Ghostbur he had become well accustomed to. Techno could only offer him a glance, though. Wilbur often made Techno feel uncomfortable. Not because Wilbur had wronged him; in fact, they shared the same anarchistic beliefs. No, it was due to the memories Wilbur’s death carried along.</p>
<p>That was the day Technoblade had decided to betray Tommy. The day Techno had shot a rocket at him and called him Theseus. It was the first time Tommy decided he’d rather side with a cruel government over his—</p>
<p>Technoblade refused to finish that sentence.</p>
<p>Phil is pulling him to a corner now, along with Wilbur. Techno follows, and as he does so, promises himself that he will not get too attached during this whole affair.</p>
<p>“What do you think, Phil? What’s wrong with him?” Wilbur asks, panic thick in his voice, “This must be Dream’s doing. Tommy probably needs a health pot. Or maybe some milk—"</p>
<p>Phil cuts him off with a dismayed stare, his lips drawn into a tight line.</p>
<p>“I’ve seen this before,” Techno begins, glancing back at Tommy’s figure on the bed, “I’ve fought alongside soldiers with this illness. I’ve… I’ve seen them die.”</p>
<p>Wilbur bristles, “Die? Are you saying this is <em>fatal</em>?” his voice cracks, and Philza finally decides to speak.</p>
<p>“It’s a disease called Flower Head,” Phil announces, apprehension visible in his eyes, “It usually happens when you’re… <em>longing</em> for something. Longing for the past, more specifically.”</p>
<p>Techno’s ears prick upwards, “The past?”</p>
<p>Phil nods at him, closing his eyes as if he were recalling something, “Soldiers are the most common victims. When they’re in war, all they can think about are their homes, families, and childhoods. They yearn for it so much that…”</p>
<p>Trailing off, Phil casts a painful look at Tommy, “The flowers will begin to grow from the scalp, eventually making their way to the face. Soon, flowers will start to blossom from his eyes, blinding him.”</p>
<p>Techno faintly hears Wilbur holding back a sob. Technoblade’s eyes squint closed, and he forces his face into a passive expression.</p>
<p>“— and then…” Phil halts for a moment, taking a shuddering breath, “Then the flowers will make their way to his nose and mouth, and it’ll—”</p>
<p>Wilbur shakes his head, “Fuck, Phil…”</p>
<p>“It’ll suffocate him,” Phil finishes. Wilbur crumples into himself, shaking. Techno lets out a stressed grunt, bringing a hand to pinch at the space between his eyebrows. Finally, his façade cracks and Techno’s face is drawn into a scowl, his tusks bearing.</p>
<p>
  <em>This was all his fault.</em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>This was all his fault.</em>
</p>
<p>Wilbur was crying, painful sobs making his body shudder. His face was burning, tears virulent and blistering as they slid down his face. The pain is nothing compared to the ache of self-hate, though.</p>
<p>The yelling, the fights, and the abuse. Wilbur remembers all of it, all of the horrible things he had put Tommy through. And Wilbur never so much as apologized. When he had finally seen Tommy again yesterday, after months of not being able to speak to each other, his first instinct was to shout at the poor kid for attempting to resurrect him. Wilbur should have been begging for forgiveness, not calling Tommy an idiot.</p>
<p>For the first time since his death, Wilbur wishes more than anything to be alive again. Wishes he could actually hug Tommy like he used to. Prays that he could have been there for him.</p>
<p>But as always, Wilbur was lying to himself.</p>
<p>He can’t ignore how awfully he’d like to retch at the thought of being resurrected.</p>
<p>Because being resurrected meant having to face Niki, who had long since lost her sanity. Fundy, ignored and thrown away by his own father. Wilbur would have to fix everything he had broken, and for Prime’s sake he wasn’t ready for that.</p>
<p>Wilbur was being selfish, he knew it. But he doesn’t want to live again.</p>
<p>He <em>can’t</em> be alive again.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>This was all his fault.</em>
</p>
<p>Phil liked to believe that he had been doing the right thing.</p>
<p>That eventually, Tommy would learn that the discs meant nothing. That Technoblade had done no wrong in fighting against a government that had forced him to take a life. That soon, Tommy and he could be a family again.</p>
<p>Turns out, that had all been a lie.</p>
<p>Now, Tommy was going to fucking suffocate to death. All because Philza hadn’t been there for his only remaining son.</p>
<p>Phil really was an idiot.</p>
<p>He looks toward his dead son and his dearest friend, both of them staring at the floor. Techno looked pained and angry and Wilbur was quietly sobbing to himself.</p>
<p>“What’s the cure, Phil?” Techno snaps, looking up at him with fiery eyes.</p>
<p>Phil knew a lot about the Flower Head, had read about it so many times that the paragraphs describing the cure had been nearly ingrained into his head, “He’ll have four days before the flowers make it impossible for him breathe,” Philza begins, summarizing the texts in his mind.</p>
<p>“It’ll be excruciating for Tommy when the flowers continue to grow, but some milk and maybe a health potion will help with that,” he continues, taking in the dismal looks Technoblade and Wilbur were directing at him.</p>
<p>“But the only way to fully cure it is…” Philza’s voice dies in his throat. Memories flood into his mind. Pleasant, but unwelcome all at the same time.</p>
<p>“What? What is it, Phil?” Wilbur’s nearly shouting, looking half mad.</p>
<p>Steadying himself, Phil finally offers a reply.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tommy? You awake?”</p>
<p>It’s Tubbo, his voice comforting and gentle.</p>
<p>Tommy blinks his eyes open, the bright light from the lanterns hanging from his room almost blinding, “Yeah,” he replies, his voice scratchy. Tommy faintly recalls the dream he had been having. He had forgotten most of it, but it seemed nice.</p>
<p>Tubbo is leaning over his bed, his worried expression drifting away for a moment when he sees Tommy finally open his eyes.</p>
<p>“He’s up, Phil,” Tubbo calls, turning to the back of the room. The mention of his father— no, he wasn’t his father. He hadn’t been Tommy’s father in a very long time— causes a dull ache at the back of Tommy’s head.</p>
<p>Philza steps into view, offering Tommy a small smile. Tommy doesn’t return it, “What do <em>you</em> want?”</p>
<p>“I think we know what’s wrong with you— and I think I know how to cure it,” Phil is trying his hardest to look encouraging, and reaches a tentative hand towards Tommy's shoulder. He halts, his fingers stilling in the air for a moment. Eventually, he sighs and withdraws his hand as if he were burned.</p>
<p>Tommy's scowl deepens. He doesn't trust Phil, not one bit.</p>
<p>“So? What do we do?” Tommy says, his tone aloof and stubborn. Phil gives him a pitying look, and Tommy doesn’t know what to make of it.</p>
<p>“We’re going home, Tommy.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yoooo so hows that Origin SMP reveal going for u guys? I can almost smell the potential fanfics lol<br/>Also I forgot to mention before that all the chap titles are taken from Love Don't Go by The Family Crest :^)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. on the stone you call a heart, you're singing out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They leave.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To the person that bookmarked this and put: "child resents dad so much he started growing flowers out of his head"<br/>Yeah, that's pretty much the fanfic</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Blankets, check. Flint and steel, check. Compass—</em>
</p>
<p>Two figures, their spines hunched as they speak to one another in hushed voices. They were inside of Tommy’s home, hidden away in the entryway’s corner. Technoblade’s piglin ears lay flat against his head, straining to listen despite himself.</p>
<p>“It’ll be a quick trip. Maybe 5 days—” the taller frame whispers. It’s Phil’s voice, distinct and familiar.</p>
<p>“Are you sure it’ll be safe? I’ve heard pillager patrols have been increasing in number—” a younger voice replies, his tone droning with badly concealed fear. <em>That</em> <em>must be Tubbo</em>, Technoblade’s mind supplies.</p>
<p>Their voices lower in volume, and Techno forces himself to pay attention to the task at hand.</p>
<p>The two-wheeled wooden horse cart adjacent to Techno lets out a small creak as he piles another load of blankets onto it. Attached to the cart is Carl, adorned with his diamond armor, grazing quietly. Techno and Tubbo had ridden him all the way to Tommy’s house, which had been a very discomfited experience. Riding with one’s ex-captor and executor was something Technoblade was not very fond of, after all.</p>
<p>Techno gazes at the remaining assortment of supplies they would need for the trip, laid across the grass. Drawing closer, he begins to list them down in his head.</p>
<p>
  <em>Wool tent, check. Iron bucket, check. Swords—</em>
</p>
<p>“What’re you doing, Techno?”</p>
<p>He isn’t startled by the voice. In fact, Technoblade was expecting it. The sudden chill fanning out from behind him had already given away the specter’s presence. Deciding to acknowledge Wilbur, Techno turns around and offers him a deadpan stare.</p>
<p>“Preparin’ our stuff for the trip,” it’s the simplest reply Techno could have given, and judging from the scowl on Wilbur’s face, it isn’t the answer the ghost was yearning for.</p>
<p>After a short silence, Wilbur finally snaps, “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he spits, loud enough for Techno to look about, a childish part of him hoping that Phil wouldn’t hear and intervene.</p>
<p>“What do you mean, Wilbur,” Techno doesn’t phrase it as a question, and turns his back on the ghost to continue his work.</p>
<p>“‘What do I mean?’ What I <em>mean</em> is— why aren’t you speaking to Tommy?”</p>
<p>Techno sighs. He didn’t have time for this. This wasn’t the time for an intervention, or whatever it was Wilbur wanted. Techno is here for one purpose, and that’s to make sure Tommy doesn’t die. Talking about his feelings wasn’t gonna make the Flower Head go away, so why talk at all?</p>
<p>“I don’t need to speak to Tommy,” Technoblade mutters, huffing as he hoists the tent onto the cart.</p>
<p>Wilbur doesn’t back down. He had always been the most in-touch with his emotions. Techno considered it one of Wilbur’s strengths, but his weakness during moments like this. Techno wonders if that’s a shortcoming every artist has.</p>
<p>“Tommy’s going to die, and you won’t even look at him?” Wilbur yells, his voice reverberating through Techno’s ears, “Fucking look at me, asshole.”</p>
<p>The cold air from behind Technoblade quickly gathers itself towards his front, and Techno is once again face-to-face with Wilbur as the specter materializes himself. Technoblade feels the beginnings of anger swell within his chest, but he keeps his face steady and detached.</p>
<p>“Leave me alone, Wilbur,” Techno says darkly, letting a bit of his animosity show through his parlance. He wasn’t here to fix things with Tommy, and he wanted Wilbur to know. Wilbur gives him a determined glare. It looks nearly maniacal, and Techno passingly wonders if this was the same look he’d given Phil when he asked to be stabbed.</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” Wilbur finishes with a bitter frown, vanishing.</p>
<p>Techno waits a few moments, counting the seconds, making sure that Wilbur was truly gone. When he is met simply with silence and the howling wind, Technoblade finally continues his work in peace. Why did Wilbur have to be such a nuisance? Perhaps spending too much time with Phil had made Techno desensitized to him, but it seemed as if everybody else in the world had a vendetta against Technoblade.</p>
<p>Of course, it’s not like he could blame them. Techno was aware of what he’d done. Aware of all his mistakes. Maybe the only one who had ever wanted to forgive him was Phil. What did that old guy see in Techno, anyway? He guesses it must have started from when they first met.</p>
<p>And like an old film strip, a memory begins to play through Techno’s mind.</p>
<p>
  <em>“What’s your name?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Phil had asked and smiled at him, sitting down on the cot next to his. The cot’s legs give a defiant squeak as Phil’s weight settles on it. Soldiers weren’t given the privilege of a respawn bed. If they died, they never came back. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Techno had looked up at him, confused and silent. He hadn’t replied. Not because he was shy— well, that too, but mostly because he didn’t speak Common as well as he did Piglin.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Not much of a talker, huh?” Phil laughed, his iron armor clanging softly as he leaned against the wall, “You look pretty young. How’d they permit you to fight?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Techno shook his head, wracking himself for a response, “Older. Piglins age… different,” he had drawled, stuttering through the difficult syllables of the Common language.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Phil had raised his eyebrows a bit in shock, “You’re older than you look, then? Interesting. You look about ten years old in human years.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A silence passes between the both of them, with Techno sending the sword on his lap nervous glances every now and again. The quiet is so uncomfortable, Techno decides to speak just to fill it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Don’t have one,” he begins, only to realize he didn’t know how to translate the rest of what he wanted to say into Common.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Phil took in his statement for a second, replaying their conversation in his mind to determine what Techno might’ve been referring to, “Oh, your name? You don’t have a name?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Techno nodded fervidly, grateful that the man had managed to understand him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Phil offered him a warm smile, “You could just give yourself your own name.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Confused, Technoblade stared at his hands, “Don’t know how to. Piglin language don’t have names.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A large bout of laughter suddenly erupted from the corner of the soldier’s quarters, and Phil chuckled along, having understood whatever the joke was. Techno stared on, the Common simply sounding like a strange mixture of vowels and sounds to him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Well, why don’t I give ya one?” Phil turned back to him, and Techno could barely conceal his excitement. He’d never had a name before, and nobody had offered to give him one, either. It was difficult being a piglin if you yearned for a life outside of the Nether. Your tongue wasn’t made for the Common-speak, and your appearance was less than welcoming. If Techno was given a name, he was one step closer to leaving his old life as a drooling savage behind him. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He nods with a bit too much excitement, and Phil laughs again. Techno belatedly realizes how much he likes the sound. Like bells, warm and light-hearted.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“How about… uhm. Dave?” Phil began, putting his fingers against his chin in thought. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Techno nearly snapped his neck from how hard he shook his head, “No. Not good,” he muttered. For some reason, that name just sounded wrong.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Grinning so wide his eyes were squinting, Phil tried again, “Hm. How about something cooler? Something like…” he trailed off, thinking to himself for a moment, “Techno…blade?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Somehow, Techno felt a deep pull towards that name. It sounded like a title for a warrior or a king. Maybe even a god. It was the type of name that stuck. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Techno smiled, “That’s good,” he said, amusement clear on his voice.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Phil gave him a joyful smirk, “Technoblade it is, then.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p><hr/>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wilbur hadn’t planned on losing his temper like that, but it seemed as if Technoblade was asking for it.</p>
<p>How he could remain unaffected during a situation like this, Wilbur just couldn’t understand.</p>
<p>It was strange, being in this ethereal form. When Wilbur didn’t materialize himself, he moved like air, seemingly everywhere at the same time. The Overworld lay before him like a large map, waiting to be explored, and Wilbur was able to transport himself anywhere within the span of a second. It was one of the positives that came with being a ghost, he supposed.</p>
<p>He sets his sights on Tommy’s room, trying to recall the appearance, scents, and atmosphere of the area. Cool stone against his hands, shuffling grass, the taste of warm air. Memories attach spirits to the real world, and Wilbur was going to use this to his advantage. Finally, he manifested in Tommy’s room.</p>
<p>The boy was bundled in bed, only his messy mop of blond hair visible above the covers. The flowers peek at Wilbur almost tauntingly, their bright red tormenting and cruel. An empty glass of milk stood on the crudely built bedside table.</p>
<p>“Tommy?” Wilbur whispers, trying his best not to shock him. Tommy’s figure stirs from under the blankets, eventually popping his head out. He offers Wilbur a sleepy look. The kid looked much better now that Phil had given him some health pots to drink.</p>
<p>“Wilbur?” he utters, his voice rough from sleep, “What’s up?”</p>
<p>“We’re— uh, we’ll be leaving soon,” Wilbur says, and takes in the apprehension visible on Tommy’s face.</p>
<p>“What’s Techno doing outside?” Tommy suddenly asks, pointing at the window towards the aforementioned piglin, who has loaded the wooden cart with their supplies.</p>
<p>Wilbur drifts closer to Tommy, “He’s packing the stuff we’ll need for the trip.”</p>
<p>Tommy frowns and straightens himself on the bed, his eyes snapping from Technoblade to Wilbur, “We don’t need that much stuff. We could just fast-travel through the Nether,” he explains matter-of-factly. It’s Wilbur’s turn to glower now.</p>
<p>“The <em>Nether? </em>Tommy, that’s dangerous and you’re too sick—” Wilbur starts. Upon hearing his words, Tommy nearly jolts from the bed.</p>
<p>“Sick? You actually believe that bullshit Phil made up?” Tommy exclaims, only to explode in a fit of dry coughs. Wilbur tries to pat his back, but Tommy shrinks away. Wilbur frowns and awkwardly puts his hand back down, a new type of anger filling him. Why did Tommy have to act like such a <em>child?</em></p>
<p>“Bullshit? This is a real sickness you’ve got, man! Didn’t Phil tell you that—” Wilbur cuts himself off, suddenly realizing that he didn’t want Tommy to know that his disease was fatal. Wilbur didn’t want to be the one to tell him—</p>
<p>Because saying it out loud means having to accept that he hadn’t there for his little brother.</p>
<p>“What? What did Phil not tell me?” Tommy asks, peering at Wilbur with angry, squinted eyes. They spend a few more seconds in tense silence as Wilbur wonders whether or not he should tell Tommy the truth.</p>
<p>Eventually, he happens upon his decision as he says, “I’ll… tell you about it later.”</p>
<p>In order to avoid anymore questions, Wilbur quickly vanishes from the room, leaving Tommy to scowl at his bedsheets.</p>
<p>Wilbur can tell him the truth later.</p>
<p>Maybe.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re saying… he might die?”</p>
<p>The pain in Tubbo’s voice is enough to make Phil stutter and attempt to offer some solace.</p>
<p>“That’s only the worse possible outcome— It’s a good thing we were able to get here so early. The trip isn’t too long, so we’ll be at the house in no time,” Phil nods at his own statement, hoping that was enough to reassure both Tubbo and himself.</p>
<p>It wasn’t.</p>
<p>Tubbo remains silent and Phil doesn’t exactly know how to comfort him. It’s been so long since they’ve spoken to each other genially, Phil had already forgotten how to carry a conversation with the boy. A passerby wouldn’t be able to tell that they used to regard each other as family. Well, <em>nearly</em> family.</p>
<p>For some reason, Tubbo hadn’t ever seen Phil as a father, unlike Tommy or Wilbur. Tubbo was similar to Techno in that way. Haunted by a past that they both refused to share with Phil; and when they did, it was brief and hazy at best.</p>
<p>The only one who had managed to get through to Tubbo was Tommy. He was the only one who knew Tubbo’s entire story, and the two boys had yet to ever share it with Phil. Phil’s blood runs cold when he realizes that now, they might never do so.</p>
<p>Tubbo hadn’t stayed at their old home for as long as Wilbur, Tommy and even Techno did. While Tommy’s memories about their old home were vivid, Tubbo’s were most likely jumbled and vague. And when Phil’s relationship with his sons had begun to crumble, Tommy was bitter and depressed. Tubbo simply treated it with passing dismay as he tugged his best friend closer and never let go.</p>
<p>Phil wishes that he could have been there for Tommy the same way Tubbo always was. However, he was aware that forgiveness wasn’t easy to come by, and neither him nor Tommy seemed to be interested in rebuilding their relationship. The thought causes an ache to bloom within Phil’s heart.</p>
<p>“Can’t I come with you guys?” Tubbo asks, breaking the tentative quiet between them.</p>
<p>Phil shakes his head, “No, it’s already dangerous enough. I haven’t been to our home in years. The place is probably crawling with mobs.”</p>
<p>“I could fight,” Tubbo replies, a fire in his eyes that Phil had missed seeing.</p>
<p>“I’m sure it’ll be easier with just Techno and me,” Phil sighs, a small smile gracing him. It’s a pathetic response, and both he and Tubbo knew it.</p>
<p>Phil doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle it if Tubbo got hurt during the trip. What if Tubbo got wounded? Or if he gets lost in the woods and gets killed by some skeleton with a shitty bow and arrow? And what if Phil’s worst nightmare is realized, and they don’t make it in time. Tommy would fucking <em>die</em>, with the flowers slowly suffocating him and his eyes blinded with red poppy petals, and <em>fuck, Tubbo would have to watch—</em></p>
<p>Phil wasn’t gonna let that happen. Tubbo needed to stay here.</p>
<p>If anything happened to that kid, it’ll be another weighty guilt that would add to the growing amount of self-hate that Phil had been accumulating throughout the years.</p>
<p>Silently, Tubbo gives him a knowing look. The boy had always been rather witty, and he caught on quick.</p>
<p>“You heal him, alright?” Tubbo whispers, a grave scowl overtaking his features, “If you don’t, I swear to Prime that I’ll kill you,” the boy announces with such gusto, Phil actually shudders. <em>Huh.</em> He’s almost impressed.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Phil picks up on Wilbur’s voice shouting about something or other from the inside of Tommy’s room. Something bad must have happened. Phil prepares to leave, but not before offering Tubbo his reply.</p>
<p>“I promise.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy tries not to startle when Phil enters his room.</p>
<p>“Everything alright in here? I thought I heard Wilbur yelling,” Phil says, stepping closer to Tommy’s bed, his face so sickly gentle and kind it made Tommy want to gag.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you ask him?” Tommy replies sarcastically, directing his gaze to the wall.  He couldn’t bear to look Philza in the eye right now. He hears the man sigh beside him, and flinches when he feels him sit on the edge of the bed.</p>
<p>“I want to hear it from you,” Phil says, sounding nearly desperate. Tommy can’t figure out why.</p>
<p>“Both of you aren’t telling me shit,” the boy says indignantly, his voice slowly rising in volume, “I know you’re keeping a secret from me! I’m not fucking stupid.”</p>
<p>Tommy hates how Phil has the gall to look surprised. Did he expect Tommy not to notice? Tommy wasn’t blind and he had seen the way Phil made sure to talk to Wilbur and Techno in the farthest corner of the room, hoping Tommy wouldn’t hear them. Phil’s wings shift anxiously, a dead giveaway of how distressed the man was.</p>
<p>Phil hadn’t even told him what his disease was called. Did the old man really think Tommy would just nod along to everything he said? Yeah, Tommy would give that a hard pass. Techno being there was already strange enough, but Wilbur just fanned the flames.</p>
<p>Wilbur. The <em>real </em>Wilbur, had only appeared in times Tommy was close to death.</p>
<p>That only meant—</p>
<p>Tommy refused to finish that sentence. He wanted Phil to say it.</p>
<p>“You’re…” Phil was frowning, and Tommy could almost hear the cogs in his mind turning as he searched for a response.</p>
<p>“— going to be fine. It’s nothing serious.”</p>
<p>Tommy’s eyebrows draw close into a scowl. Having heard Phil’s reply, the boy brings the covers over his head, Phil watching helplessly.</p>
<p>If Phil wanted to lie to him, then fine. Tommy shouldn’t have expected any different, anyways. Tommy already knew that he was fucking dying. He might as well just let them heal him so that he can forget their stupid trip ever happened, and they’ll go back to their normal lives and keep on ignoring each other until Dream escapes from prison and fucking kills everyone.</p>
<p>Yup, that sounded like a plan.</p>
<p>“We’ll… be leaving in about an hour, okay? I’ll come get you,” Phil mutters, laying a hand on the top of Tommy’s head through the covers. The pressure of his hand feels suffocating. The room is silent for a moment, the only sound being Phil’s footsteps as he dejectedly leaves the room.</p>
<p>Tommy hadn’t felt this helpless and left out since he was exiled.</p>
<p>A flower sprouts from Tommy’s scalp again, and he curses under his breath.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Technoblade.”</p>
<p>Turning around, Techno finds himself face to face with Tommy. The flowers atop his head are as red as blood, contrasting against the boy’s sickly pale skin. Techno only offers him a polite nod in response. Wilbur is there, floating anxiously next to Tommy as he brings him to the cart. Ignoring Wilbur’s sour glance, Techno focuses his gaze on the stone walls of Tommy’s home.</p>
<p>“Don’t be too hard on him,” Phil mutters, walking towards Technoblade. His long elytra wings graze the grass. Frowning, Techno strides to the horse cart’s front seat, hoisting himself up and grabbing Carl’s reins. Phil follows despite Techno’s silence, sighing to himself.</p>
<p>Techno didn’t quite understand why Wilbur and Phil wanted him to treat the boy any different. Tommy didn’t deserve an apology, and Techno wasn’t going to give him one. A stinging hurt erupts from Techno’s chest at the thought, and he chastises himself.</p>
<p><em>No, he wasn’t supposed to be feeling bad, </em>Technoblade thinks, his hold on the reins tightening more than necessary.</p>
<p>Phil takes the seat next to Techno on the front of the horse cart, sending the piglin another nervous glance.</p>
<p>“Just… remember that you’re family, alright?” Phil says, glancing at Tommy and Tubbo as they bid each other goodbye. Techno wishes Phil wouldn’t say things like that. Phil knew as well as Technoblade that whatever ‘family’ they used to have was all gone now.</p>
<p>Whatever life they used to share had been thrown away the moment Tommy decided to betray him. Had dissipated into nothing when Wilbur decided he’d form a corrupt government. Techno didn’t do anything wrong, all he did was fight for what he believed in, fought for the beliefs that he and his family used to share.</p>
<p>
  <em>Techno was doing the right thing.</em>
</p>
<p>Wasn’t he?</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll miss you, Big Man,” Tubbo mutters, drawing Tommy close for a hug. Wilbur’s ghostly heart aches, and he feels an urge to embrace Tommy as well.</p>
<p>Had it been the wrong choice to keep the Flower Head’s true nature a secret from Tommy? The boy would find out eventually, and he’d probably hate Wilbur. At least, hate him even more than he does now. The weight of a secret was suffocating Wilbur, and he wanted more than anything to just tell Tommy the truth and—</p>
<p>No. Wilbur wouldn’t let it get to that point. Tommy didn’t need to know anything, because the sickness would never kill him. Why tell Tommy something that would only cause the poor kid even more stress?</p>
<p>“I’ll miss you too, Tubbo,” Tommy mumbles, burying his head into Tubbo’s shoulder despite being a good few inches taller, “I’ll be back. I promise.”</p>
<p>Tubbo laughs, drawing himself away from Tommy to give him a large smile, “You better, because I’d probably kill Phil if you didn’t.”</p>
<p>The two of them share a laugh. Wilbur smiles a bit at the joke, despite knowing that Tubbo probably wasn’t kidding. That kid was scarier than he let on. Eventually, after whispering a few more words to each other, the two boys part. Tommy spares Tubbo another look as he climbs into the back of the horse cart, sitting amongst the packs of bread.</p>
<p>Wilbur hears the snap of Carl’s reins, and the cart begins to move forwards, slowly gathering speed. Tommy waves at Tubbo, the other boy’s figure growing smaller and smaller in size as they quickly make their way down the Prime Path.</p>
<p>Tommy is smiling as he directs a myriad of goodbyes to Tubbo, the red poppies on his head swaying against the wind. Wilbur can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the sight. He wanted to protect that smile, more than anything. Telling Tommy about his possible death was only going to make the boy even more dismal than he already was.</p>
<p>This was good. This was enough.</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilbur was doing the right thing.</em>
</p>
<p>Wasn’t he?</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Guilt was an unbearable load that hung off the edge of Philza’s mind.</p>
<p>He could hear his son’s voice, echoing through the destroyed streets of Manberg, saying goodbye to his truest and only friend. Tommy’s cadence was like music to Phil’s ears. He hasn’t heard Tommy with that lilt of joy in his voice in months. Phil had missed it. Prime, he missed it so damn much.</p>
<p>“What’s up, Phil?” it’s Techno, his voice deep and grounding. Phil looks up at him, Techno’s eyes still fixed on the road ahead of him. As always, the piglin noticed Phil’s sudden change in mood.</p>
<p>Phil forces a smile, “It’s… just nice seeing Tommy smile again.”</p>
<p>Not exactly a lie, but not exactly the truth either. Technoblade sees through the façade, fixing his eyes on Phil.</p>
<p>“Your hands are shakin’, old man,” Techno mutters, and Phil’s gaze is drawn to the hands on his lap, that were in fact, trembling like leaves caught in the autumn wind.</p>
<p>A laugh escapes him, “You got me there, pal,” Phil replies, balling his hands into fists before continuing, “I guess I’m a little confused.”</p>
<p>Techno motions with his hand for Phil to go on as the cart enters the beginnings of a forest, breaking off from the wooden Prime Path and onto a road of pebbles and untamed grass.</p>
<p>“I just don’t know what to say to him,” Phil whispers, knowing that he doesn’t have to elucidate who he’s talking about as Techno turns around and glances at Tommy. The boy is quiet now, his friend no longer visible from this far.</p>
<p>Once Phil starts, he finds that he nearly spills all of his thoughts onto Techno, “I want to apologize, I really do. But he—”</p>
<p>“I’ll stop ya right there, buddy,” Techno interrupts, grunting as a particularly large pebble causes the cart to jerk up a bit.</p>
<p>“This isn’t some therapy session, okay?” Technoblade continues to speak, Phil nodding along resolutely, “You don’t need to talk to Tommy. All you need is to do is heal him. That’s it.”</p>
<p>Phil wishes it were that easy. Wishes he was cold enough to ignore his dying son; but despite Phil’s shortcomings, he still held a love for his family that he couldn’t deny. A love that made him want to repair everything that had been broken.</p>
<p>But a small tingling of uncertainty still clung onto the back of Phil’s mind. A burning thought that left a scar, whispering to him that Tommy would end up just like Wilbur. All because of his love for a stupid piece of land or for two little music discs. Tommy had nearly died for them.</p>
<p>That thought scared Phil. Was Tommy’s self-worth really so low? That he relied on everything else other than himself to offer illusions of gratification? Phil wanted Tommy to understand this, wanted the kid to know how much he was hurting himself.</p>
<p>But now, Phil was too late. Wilbur was dead. Techno had been betrayed. And Tommy chose to side with a government that had killed his brother and pressured Technoblade to execute someone. And worst of all, he refused to listen to anybody who dared to tell him that a country and two discs weren’t good bargains for his own self-esteem.</p>
<p>
  <em>For Prime’s sake, what was Philza supposed to do?</em>
</p>
<p>Technoblade was staring at him, waiting patiently for Phil to reply.</p>
<p>A smile. A nod. Phil could remain unsure, at least for now. He just needed a little more time to think.</p>
<p>Phil looks up at an expectant Techno, and tries his most convincing tone, “Yeah. Thanks, Techno.”</p>
<p>Technoblade smiles back at him, and Phil can’t tell if the piglin sees through the lie.</p>
<p>Phil just had to wait a little longer. Wait for Tommy to understand and learn that Techno wasn’t in the wrong. That the government Tommy had sided with was the cause of his older brother’s demise. All Phil had to do was wait.</p>
<p>
  <em>Philza was doing the right thing.</em>
</p>
<p>Wasn’t he?</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“What am I without you?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yourself.”</em>
</p>
<p>Tommy doesn’t understand what Tubbo had meant by that.</p>
<p>Being ‘himself’ was lonely.</p>
<p>Tommy lived and breathed off the status given to him by his family, and he honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. His family was amazing. With two gods and the others being powerful leaders, Tommy didn’t know how he was supposed to keep up.</p>
<p>All he could do was watch and smile from the sidelines.</p>
<p>And that was enough.</p>
<p>Tommy was just a dumb kid after all, some thief that had wandered into the right house at the age of seven and got his arse adopted by a pseudo-god.</p>
<p>Tommy had been his silver-tongued brother’s closest ally, carefully staying within Wilbur’s shadow as the man rallied together a rebellion; with Tommy singing songs of loyalty even when Wilbur had lost his damn mind and threatened to blow up the country they wanted to save. Tommy still didn’t know why he had stayed by Wilbur’s side.</p>
<p>Maybe it was because Tommy didn’t know what he’d do and who he’d be if he wasn’t Wilbur’s right-hand man.</p>
<p>Tommy was the traitor, calling Technoblade a murderer even as he sided with a government who carried the title of ‘Butchers’ proudly. The cold thief who kept Techno’s armor and weapons, even though he had betrayed the piglin.</p>
<p>And of course, Tommy was the idiot who had sacrificed everything for his best friend. The dumbass who had trailed after Tubbo even after the other boy had exiled and betrayed Tommy. Despite the nights Tommy had spent freezing cold. Despite the hissing of dynamite that echoed through Tommy’s nightmares. Despite Dream’s almost cheerful voice, reassuring Tommy that they were friends.</p>
<p>Despite <em>everything.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>“Yourself.”</em>
</p>
<p>Tubbo didn’t understand how painful it was for Tommy to hear that— because being himself meant having to face that he was the chipped bronze coin amongst the polished gold. That he was fucking ordinary. While the names of his family members would be charted down in history, Tommy would simply be known as that one kid they had all lived with at some point.</p>
<p>Tommy <em>needed</em> those discs. He had needed L’manberg too, before it was all blown up.</p>
<p>The Disc War and all the battles for L’manberg’s emancipation; those were events that would echo Tommy’s name throughout the course of history. He’d be remembered as the kid who had defeated Dream. The loyal soldier who gave everything up for a country’s independence.</p>
<p>Tommy would be a hero. <em>Just like his brother. Just like his mentor. Just like his best friend. Just like his father.</em></p>
<p>Perhaps then, he’d want to be himself.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yourself.”</em>
</p>
<p>The word continues to resonate through Tommy’s mind, like a taunt being repeated over and over by a little child. Tommy can faintly hear Technoblade and Philza speaking to each other. A coldness breezes against him relentlessly, and Tommy finds that Wilbur had been beside him the entire time, pressed against his side as if the ghost were seeking warmth.</p>
<p>“You okay, Tommy?”</p>
<p>Wilbur looks worried, but Tommy doesn’t want to grace him with a reply. He was still mad that Wilbur didn’t tell him anything about the disease. The quiet between them grows, the chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves proved almost deafening. Wilbur sighs, giving Tommy a look of pity.</p>
<p>“I just want you to know that…” Wilbur trails off, as if he was unsure of what he’s about to say. Tommy waits for him to continue, still refusing to speak.</p>
<p>“I’m proud of you.”</p>
<p>Despite how many times Wilbur had said this to Tommy, it still makes the boy’s heart swell with pride and delight.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yourself.”</em>
</p>
<p>As Tommy smiles back at Wilbur, a small and temporary joy bristling through him, he thinks that this counts as one of the few moments that he’s glad to be himself.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I intended this chapter to really dig into how Tommy thinks of himself, with the last part in his POV almost serving as a character analysis. I hope this properly shows y'all the type of character and development I'd like to give him in this fic hehe. More fluff in the next chap I promise</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. lay your head upon my chest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A verse of joy amid a song of sadness</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>chap title is from When the lights go out by The Family Crest :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“I’m gonna meet The Blade! I’m gonna meet The Blade!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Tommy, you’re gonna scare him off if you keep chanting like that.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Firm but gentle hands had grasped Tommy’s shoulders, making him look up at the now-familiar face of his brother.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He won’t be scared. He’s Technoblade!” Tommy exclaimed, turning around to hold Wilbur’s hands. The teenager offered him an amused huff, holding onto Tommy as the boy sprinted across the hall into their little kitchen. There awaited Philza, the man stirring a pot set upon their rustic, brick-built stove. Phil had smiled the moment he saw Tommy, the lines of age around his eyes crinkling with joy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Looks like someone’s excited!” Phil called, nearly falling over when Tommy wrapped his little arms around the man’s legs. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m gonna meet The Blade! I’m gonna meet The Blade!” Tommy repeated, his head snapping from Wilbur to Phil to gauge their faces. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilbur sighed to himself, face-palming as Phil shushed Tommy, “Chill out, Tommy. He won’t be arriving until another hour or so.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tommy seemed to sag a bit, letting go of Phil’s legs as the man continued stirring the pot of potato stew. That was Techno’s favorite, Wilbur had told him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>All of a sudden— as if on cue, a quick series of knocks resounded from their front door. Tommy almost tripped over himself when he ran towards the entryway, positively buzzing with energy as Phil moved to open the oak door.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He’s earlier than I thought,” Wilbur remarked as Philza drew the door open, a dark shadow casting itself across their floor, the figure outside tall and almost menacing. Tommy felt a brief tinge of panic at the sight, but had relaxed the moment he saw Phil’s eyes soften and Wilbur’s mouth quirk up into a small smile.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hey, Techno,” Phil grinned, stepping out of their home briefly to embrace the man outside. Tommy still couldn’t see Technoblade from where he was standing, so he wasted no time as he bounded out the door. Tommy’s eyesight was suddenly obscured for a moment, his short frame bumping into a much larger one.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oof,” A monotone voice mutters, “What the— oh, is this the kid?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A calloused hand comes to rest on Tommy’s shoulder, and Tommy had nearly screamed when he finally looked up and locked eyes with Technoblade himself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Technoblade! You’re Technoblade!” Tommy had shouted as Phil and Wilbur, the two laughing to themselves, led them all inside. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He looked a bit different from what Tommy had imagined. Techno’s eyes differed from any other piglin Tommy had seen before. Unlike the other piglins, Technoblade’s eyes had pupils, a startling pure black that seemed to peer into Tommy’s soul. Besides that, Techno looked like any other piglin you would find dwelling in the Nether.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Techno looked younger, too. While Wilbur was sixteen and Tommy was eight, Technoblade looked only twelve years old. Despite his tall height, his eyes were large, his shoulders weren’t broad, and his cheeks still looked plump with the roundness of a child’s face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Despite this, Techno still carried an air about him that left you feeling as if you were in the presence of a sovereign. From the heavy bright red cloak adorning him to the trident slung across his back, glistening with foreign magic. Phil had once mentioned that Techno was older than he looked. Tommy acknowledges that thought as he stared at the scars adorning Techno’s knuckles.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yup, that’s me,” Techno had droned, removing his fur-collared cloak with a flourish, making Tommy’s mouth gape in awe, “And I’m takin’ that you must be Tommy?” he continued, pausing for a moment as Wilbur pulls him in for a hug as well, making Tommy bristle with jealousy for a bit.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You know me?” Tommy asked incredulously, sitting down on their spruce dining table in a daze. A rush of joy settling over him after having heard Technoblade actually say his name. Wilbur fluttered close, setting down the hand-carved wooden plates that Philza had whittled himself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil had chuckled as he stoked the stove’s fire into embers, carrying the small pot of stew to the table, “Of course he knows you, I sent him like, six letters all about you,” Phil said, placing the pot on top of a knitted coaster.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ten,” Techno quipped, sitting down on the table across from Tommy, “You’re getting senile, old man.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tommy had let out a loud, raucous laugh as Technoblade turned and winked at him.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Techno could hear screaming, and it wasn’t from inside his head.</p><p>It was night now, and they had set camp in some secluded part of the forest. Techno had been keeping watch in case any mobs came too close, his netherite sword unsheathed and sat next to him. Phil was supposed to be asleep by now, since he and Techno were taking shifts, but Philza had awoken multiple times during the night, eventually causing the man to sigh and join Techno outside.</p><p>Phil had been kept up by something, something that he refused to tell Wilbur nor Techno. Something that Techno had sensed earlier that day, as they were leaving the borders of the Dream SMP. The man had been brimming with tensity for the whole night; bouncing his knee as he sat next to Technoblade, pacing and muttering to himself as he readied their dinner, and now, a sudden burst of insomnia.</p><p>It had gotten so bad that Phil had grabbed his axe with a huff, muttering to Techno that he was going deeper into the forest to get more wood for the fire. Techno had nodded in response, despite the long stare he’d given the pile of logs that they gathered for firewood earlier that afternoon, still fresh and unused.</p><p>Technoblade had nearly forgotten about the scream, attributing it to some dying zombie or perhaps a phantom. When—</p><p>
  <em>“Techno!”</em>
</p><p>The voice isn’t that of a hostile mob. In fact, it held a startling similarity to Tommy’s voice. Technoblade didn’t waste another second as he leaves the campfire’s side, bounding into the wool tent that the kid had been situated in.</p><p>“What is it? Are you—” Techno begins, but is silenced when he sees the state that Tommy is in.</p><p>Tommy was sobbing, fat tears sliding down his face as he hiccupped indecipherable words. There were about four new flowers sprouted atop his head, bobbing as Tommy attempts to hide himself beneath his sheets. It is then that Techno’s shock dissipates and erupts into panic.</p><p>“Wilbur? <em>Wilbur!” </em>Technoblade yells, looking around himself as he waits for a tell-tale chill to breeze past him. Nothing comes.</p><p><em>Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. </em>Techno is chanting to himself, hovering near the tent’s entrance. If only Phil was here. Why did it have to be Techno? He didn’t want to deal with this. Technoblade had told himself that he wouldn’t get too attached, that he wouldn’t talk to Tommy because the kid didn’t fucking deserve it—</p><p>“T-Techno, please,” Tommy pleads almost childishly, his voice scratchy, “It hurts.”</p><p>The moment those words leave Tommy’s mouth, Techno decides to throw all caution to the wind as he kneels down and embraces him. The kid is trembling, his shaking hands gripping Techno’s sleeve so hard that the piglin can feel the cloth straining.</p><p>“I-I had— a dream. It—” Tommy starts, barely able to speak from the terrible string of hiccups leaving his throat. Techno shushes him, and awkwardly brings a hand to rest on Tommy’s head, being careful not to touch any of the flowers there.</p><p>“It’s okay now,” Techno whispers as Tommy buries his head into the piglin’s shoulder, tears staining his bright red cloak. Techno wasn’t really used to comforting others. Not to mention that the last time he had tried to offer Tommy any type of solace was when the boy had invaded his home during his exile from L’manberg.</p><p>But Techno never forgot the little nuances. Never forgot the way Tommy would relax whenever Techno laid a hand on his shoulder, or when Tommy would give him a happy smile when he’d pester Technoblade for a hug and the piglin would give in. The kid would light up from the simplest of gestures, and if there was any time for Techno to make good use of this knowledge, it was now.</p><p>“You alright?” Techno asks, tone expectant in a way that he knew Tommy wouldn’t be able to resist but offer a reply to.</p><p>Tommy nods, tears still sliding down his face but his body no longer trembling. He looks half-awake, as if he were teetering on the edge of sleep, “B-Better, I guess.”</p><p>Techno is quiet as Tommy gives him a tired stare, the kid almost searching for something as Techno gives him a level gaze.</p><p>“You look so different now,” Tommy mutters softly, tugging at a loose strand of pink hair that was hanging off Techno’s shoulder.</p><p>Technoblade cocks his head to the side in confusion, “Heh?” is the astute reply he offers.</p><p>“I had a dream about when we first met,” Tommy drawls, clumsily rubbing his eyes to remove the remaining tear stains, “You used to look so… piglin-y.”</p><p>Techno scoffs, wiping a tear away from Tommy’s cheek before he can halt himself. Tommy flinches at the touch, staring warily into Technoblade’s milky white eyes. Techno wasn’t wearing his skull mask, so his eyes were visible within the stark darkness of the tent.</p><p>“Yeah. This is what happens when you become a god,” he says, pointing at his pink shoulder-length hair and his white, pupil-less eyes. Tommy is quiet, staring up at Techno as if he wanted to know more. Techno hesitates for a moment.</p><p>Technoblade often spoke about how he had attained divination. He hardly told anyone about the actual process of becoming a god, though. The stories concerning brave battles and valiant quests were much easier to talk about compared to the gruesome and gory way Techno’s body had been changed to suit the gods’ favors. It was much easier to elicit awe from others when you ignored all the nasty bits of the story.</p><p>“It’s a sign of honor, you know. Having white eyes. Signifies your holiness or something,” Technoblade explains, recalling the horrible pain he had felt as the gods who had blessed him took away his dark black eyes, replacing them with a symbol of purity and birth. White.</p><p><em>“Black means death and ignorance,”</em> one of the gods had explained, voice soft and gentle despite the ringing of Techno’s shrieks, the piglin crying out as his black pupils slowly bled into a bleached shade of ivory, <em>“Not quite befitting for a god.”</em></p><p>When Technoblade had reached divination a few years ago, the gods had decided that the face of a piglin didn’t suit his new godly status. So, the gods stripped half of him away and put in its place the body of man. Techno became a representation of two worlds; the Overworld and the Nether. Became a symbol of two beings, man and monster. A human and a piglin.</p><p>And from then on, Technoblade was known as The Blood God.</p><p>“I miss how you looked like before,” Tommy remarks as he yawns a bit, finally snapping Techno out of his thoughts. He notices the wince of pain Tommy tries to conceal as another flower threatens to blossom.</p><p>Techno didn’t miss it. He had spent his entire life trying to forget about the Nether. The crippling loneliness and the deafening shrieks of the monsters as they loitered about around him. His violent kin, the other piglins snorting and baring their tusks if they so much as smelled any gold nearby. The ghasts, blowing balls of flame at him if he got too close. <em>The scars, the burns, the bruises—</em></p><p>“Well, I sure don’t,” Techno deadpans, pushing Tommy— albeit gently, away. He needs to leave. Staying here was proving to be dangerous, with unwanted memories fluttering into Techno’s head like swarms of bees.</p><p>Tommy stutters, “<em>Aww</em>, but—,” he sounds so utterly disappointed and distraught, that Techno actually turns around and surveys the kid, “Please don’t leave,” Tommy finishes.</p><p>The kid looks tired as hell, his eyes drooping down ever so slightly, as if he was begging for sleep. Technoblade passingly wonders if the kid will remember this by tomorrow, or if Tommy will think it was all a dream.</p><p>A stubborn sigh leaves Techno’s lips, but he can’t help but sit next to Tommy.</p><p>“Fine. But only until Phil or Wilbur come back,” Techno states, crossing his arms as Tommy gives him a blinding smile.</p><p>Techno stays there until dawn.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Wilbur had been there all along.</p><p>He’s holding back a victorious laugh as he watches the rhythmic rise and fall of Techno’s chest, the piglin now asleep, slumping against the corner. Techno is holding Tommy’s hand in his, the boy sleeping soundly throughout the night, not bothered by any more dreams.</p><p>It’s about an hour away from the first crack of morning when Phil returns to their camp. Despite the man stating that he was going out to chop some wood, his arms are empty. He’s frowning when he sees Wilbur, fear in his eyes when he finally opens his mouth to speak.</p><p>“Where’s Techno? Is Tommy—” he begins, his voice rising in volume. Wilbur shushes him with a smile, and draws the entrance of the tent open. Phil falls quiet when his eyes land on Tommy and Techno’s sleeping figures. An incredulous laugh heaves itself out of Phil as he turns to look at Wilbur.</p><p>“Did you have something to do with this?” Phil whispers, amusement clear in his tone. Wilbur shrugs, recalling how he had purposefully remained silent and unseen despite Techno’s desperate calls.</p><p>“I just got tired of him acting so damn indifferent,” Wilbur replies. He hadn’t felt even a tinge of guilt as he left Techno alone to deal with Tommy. Wilbur could remember the pang of sadness he had felt when he saw Tommy thrashing about and calling for help, though.</p><p>Phil sighs, “Techno’s… always found it hard to forgive people who he believes had betrayed him,” the man explains, walking over to the fire to begin collecting their things. Wilbur attempts to help, but his spectral form can’t hold objects that are too heavy. The ghost grunts as a particularly hefty bag of food slips out of his grip, passing through his fingers as if he were made out of water.</p><p>“Well, he’ll get over it eventually,” Wilbur remarks, giving Phil a thankful nod as the man picks up the bag for him.</p><p>Phil laughs a bit, “How do you know that?”</p><p>Wilbur falls silent for a moment, his witty response dying on his tongue as he stares at the rising sun. It casts a golden glow over their little camp, beams of light cast over the trees, making the small fields of grass look resplendent.</p><p>Maybe they were going to be alright.</p><p>“Tommy always gets his way,” Wilbur finally replies, a small smile gracing his lips.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tommy wakes up that morning feeling warm.</p><p>He hadn’t felt that type of comfort in a long time. The stone walls of his house often kept the cold inside, and his blankets were always threadbare and worn, and did nothing to combat the nightly chill that would creep in through his windows.</p><p>Now, the blankets surrounding Tommy’s body are much thicker, their weight keeping his body’s temperature at a steady, mellow heat. As he reaches out a hand to tug one of the pillows closer, Tommy suddenly remembers where he is. Tommy had only ever had one pillow on his bed. There were at least four surrounding him now, soft and plush against his sides. Tommy wasn’t in his house.</p><p>As if his body had suddenly been reminded of its current state, the flowers above Tommy’s head let out a sting of hurt. And like it had never been there in the first place, the comforting warmth that had settled over Tommy dissipates, now replaced with a cold, unforgiving truth.</p><p>Finally opening his eyes, Tommy is greeted by the white woolen concave top of his tent. A string of light streams into the tent from the entrance, the tent flaps blowing softly in the gentle breeze. It was morning now. Attempting to get up, Tommy realizes that he can’t move his left hand. Turning around, he sees his hand clasped in Techno’s, the piglin slumped in the tent’s side, still asleep.</p><p>That’s right, Technoblade had come in here to help calm Tommy down after a nightmare of some sorts. Tommy couldn’t even recall what he had been dreaming about, but it was enough to make some flowers grow last night. If anything, Tommy is thankful that he doesn’t remember the dream.</p><p>Tommy looks down at his and Techno’s hands for a moment, basking in the sentimental gesture before eventually whispering, “Techno?”</p><p>Technoblade wakes up with a jolt, his eyes surveying the room wildly and his hand coming to rest at his hip, as if he were looking for a sword. Techno had always been a light sleeper, something that Tommy attributed to years of fighting as a soldier.</p><p>“Oh, uhm. Hey, Tommy,” Techno drawls, his throat rough with sleep. He stares at their clasped hands for a second, awkwardly drawing his hand away from Tommy’s as he gets up, “Sorry. I had to come in here ‘cause of… uh—”</p><p>“Yeah. I remember,” Tommy says quickly, trying to battle the awkwardness in the air.</p><p>“Yeah, uhm— Phil wasn’t around, so…” Techno attempts to explain, but decides the better of it as he falls silent. The piglin gets up and walks to the entrance of the tent, not exactly knowing if he should leave or not.</p><p>Tommy tries to ignore the anger that flames within him upon hearing that Phil hadn’t been there. Of course he fucking wasn’t.</p><p>Techno silently comes upon his decision, finally pushing up the tent’s flap, stepping outside.</p><p>“Wait,” Tommy says, his voice nearly a whisper. Techno pauses, lingering in front of the entrance, his hand is tense  as he holds up one of the tent flaps, waiting for Tommy to continue. Tommy takes a deep breath, not exactly knowing what to say, “Uhm. Thank you.”</p><p>Techno turns back around, giving Tommy a long stare. Finally, Techno nods, walking away from the tent and towards the center of their little campsite.</p><p>Tommy feels an odd sense of accomplishment.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Phil pulls out his compass.</p><p>He wasn’t lying if he said that he preferred not to use any tools of circumnavigation. Some compasses break, maps get damaged and become impossible to read, and whispering spells to open up menus to see your coordinates becomes tedious. It was second nature for Phil to avoid using most of these, especially now that he had settled into the icy mountains alongside Techno without a plan to leave any time soon.</p><p>Phil only kept two compasses now. One was the compass that pointed to Techno’s home, which he often didn’t need to use because they were basically next-door neighbors.</p><p>And the other was a compass that had been at the very bottom of Phil’s enderchest, its glass cracked a bit and the needle inside almost rusty. A thin glow of enchantment was emanating from it, the compass still pointing straight ahead to a lodestone kept hidden beneath the floorboards of an abandoned home.</p><p>It was Phil’s home. <em>Their</em> home.</p><p>Now, Phil is staring at the needle, assessing its gentle quiver as the bit of metal points, seemingly drawn, towards a lodestone miles and miles away. Taking note of the direction it’s pointing at, Phil slips it back into his pocket and heads to Tommy’s tent, taking with him a single loaf of bread and a canteen of milk.</p><p>Wilbur had aided him in gathering all of their supplies back into the horse cart. Techno did as well, after quietly leaving Tommy’s tent earlier that morning. The piglin was silent about it as he helped pack their things, aptly ignoring the teasing smiles that Wilbur would send his way.</p><p>It was past dawn now, and they needed to leave soon if they wanted to reach the house in time. Phil swings the flaps of the tent’s entrance open, his eyes immediately snapping to look down at the flowers that had grown on Tommy’s head. There were newer ones, the poppies now going down towards the nape of his neck and towards the top of Tommy’s ears. He counts them with one glance. Twelve. That’s not very good.</p><p>“Hey,” Tommy says, almost ignorant to the new bundle of red flowers that had sprouted atop his head. It was probably for the best that Phil and Wilbur hadn’t told him about the Flower Head being deadly. Maybe this ignorance could stave off the sickness and buy them some more time.</p><p>“Hey. Breakfast?” Phil replies, passing the loaf of bread and the canteen to Tommy. Tommy is silent as he eats, giving a little sigh as the milk begins to take its effect, dulling the pain of the flowers for a bit.</p><p>“Phil?” Tommy starts with a small voice, having finished the bread and settling the now-empty canteen on the tent floor. Phil gives him a hum of acknowledgement, offering Tommy an expectant look. Tommy doesn’t look back at him, instead focusing his gaze to the ground.</p><p>Phil liked to believe that he was exceptionally good at reading his children. Right now, it seemed as if Tommy wanted to tell him something, wanted more than anything for Phil to offer him some type of assurance. Phil smiles at him, hoping that it would help ease the kid in some way.</p><p>“Does Techno hate me?” Tommy asks, surprising Phil a bit. Tommy takes a deep breath before continuing, “He…”</p><p>“No, he’s just—” Phil interrupts, wracking himself for a proper reply as Tommy finally looks up at him, confusion clear in the boy’s eyes, “I don’t… I don’t think I can answer that,” Phil finally says, disappointment pulsing through him as Tommy gives him a sad stare.</p><p>“Do you…” Tommy says, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips as he frowns to himself, “Do <em>you</em> hate me?”</p><p>Phil doesn’t waste any time with his response, “No! I’d never hate you.”</p><p>Phil didn’t hate Tommy. That was the truth.</p><p>But if Phil didn’t hate him, then how <em>did</em> he feel about him? It had to be love; he was Tommy’s father, after all. But would a father who loved his son ever abandon that same child? Could Phil still say that he cared about Tommy without a doubt, even though he had left the boy to struggle and fight all by himself?</p><p>How Phil was able to raise three sons and take care of a young soldier by himself all those years ago, he didn’t know. Philza had been too young for that type of responsibility, that was for sure.</p><p>Phil had been naïve, thinking he could save every single child he had come across. First with Techno, then it was Wilbur and Tommy, and finally Tubbo. A child soldier, a quiet boy with only a guitar to keep him company, a young thief with unkempt blonde hair, and a kid abandoned by the side of the road—</p><p>All of them had pulled at Phil’s heart strings, playing a tune of helplessness and pain, and Phil wanted nothing more than to save them. Oh, how he had failed. Honestly, Phil should have seen the warning signs all those years ago.</p><p>When Techno came home one night, no longer a piglin. His eyes were a dull white, his hair was long and sported a rosy hue, and his face was that of man; the face of a stranger. Techno had refused to speak to anyone for a week, locking himself in his room until one day he called everyone to the dining table, informing them of his divination and how the gods had transmuted his body as tears slid down his face. Phil still doesn’t know if they were tears of joy, or utter regret.</p><p>Perhaps Phil should have seen all of this coming when Wilbur began to write letters to a young girl named Niki, telling him of a place called the Dream SMP, a large and prospering land. Wilbur had promised her that he would visit one day, and had asked Phil for permission. Phil should have said no, and pushed any thoughts of that place out of his son's mind.</p><p>Tommy and Tubbo beginning to grow closer, their hearts singing the same song that yearned for adventure. Phil had simply watched as the two of them would sneak out of the house and into the nearby forest, killing any hostile mobs in their wake. Phil should have taken their swords and had warned them not to stray. Should have told the two boys that fighting wasn’t just about the daring rescues, close calls and victorious wins. It was about the wars, the blood, the pain, the death.</p><p>Phil didn’t expect for the two of them to realize this so early in their lives, with Tubbo and Tommy surrounded by corpses and the destroyed remains of a country they had called L’manberg.</p><p>But the greatest bad omen had been on that faithful night, years and years ago. When Techno had been wounded, and Wilbur was crying for help, and Tubbo and Tommy were forced onto a horse’s back, and Phil was screaming at them to get away, to go somewhere as far as possible—</p><p>
  <em>The night they had abandoned their home.</em>
</p><p>Phil feels like he’s drowning, remorse and regret gathering like a tide, surrounding him and making him feel an unbearable pressure. Maybe if he had been a better father, if he had realized how wrong things were sooner, maybe he could have—</p><p>A wave of guilt crashes into Phil as he watches Tommy give him a small nod.</p><p>“Okay,” Tommy mutters, standing up and leaving the tent in one quick motion, leaving Phil alone.</p><p>Phil liked to believe that he was exceptionally good at reading his children. Right now, Tommy’s face only delivered one emotion.</p><p>
  <em>Distrust.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. bitter shrieks and evil quips (should I stay, or should I go?)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy has an epiphany.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>chap title is from: The Family Crest - "The Headwinds"<br/>warning: there's mentions of blood in this chap</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Phil, there’s a boy in the woods!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He could have sworn he had seen a flash of chestnut brown hair while he was collecting the eggs from their little chicken coop. Swears that he had caught sight of a dark green shirt, as if the other boy wanted to blend in with the trees.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tommy ran up to Philza, shaking the man’s knee. Phil was out on the fields, uprooting carrots. The air around them smelled damp and earthy. His father smiled at him, the way he would smile when Tommy makes a clever joke.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sure ya did, Tommy. Now get those eggs inside,” Phil laughed, grabbing the stem of another carrot, his hands straining as he attempted to pull the stubborn root out.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No! It’s true, I swear!” Tommy exclaimed, turning to look pleadingly at his brother, who had been sowing pumpkin seeds next to them. Wilbur gave Tommy a deadpan stare, his cheeks ruddy and stained with dirt.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Stop bullshitting and put the eggs in the kitchen,” Wilbur remarked with an air of finality. Tommy sighed, helplessly looking between his father and his brother as they continued their work, barely paying Tommy any mind. If Techno were here, he’d probably listen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Too bad the piglin was off fighting again, having a duel with some guy named Dream. Tommy had heard of him before. There were whispers that he was a god in disguise. That he had been cast out by the gods after committing some horrible crime, and that they’d cursed Dream to live in the Overworld amongst the other mortals. Tommy supposed that was all rubbish, though.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well, if you don’t believe me, I’m gonna go back out to get ‘im!” Tommy yelled, stomping into their house. From his peripheral vision, he saw Wilbur say something to Phil, with the man responding by shaking his head. Tommy snaps his head forward. He didn’t care about what they were talking about. All that mattered to him now was that boy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Leaving the eggs on the kitchen counter, Tommy sauntered towards the opening of the forest, pausing in his step as he stared at the overgrown fauna. With one deep inhale, he made his way into the woods, where the thin grass surrounding their home began to grow wild, with long wildryes tickling Tommy’s knees as he descended into the underbrush. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hello?” Tommy called, his fingers tracing a line across a pine’s bark. Listening for any reply, Tommy stood still, the only noise being the soft calls of the cicadas nearby.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hello,” a voice whispered, only a foot away from Tommy’s ear. Tommy jolted, spinning about to find the source. As he looked behind him, Tommy finally locked eyes with the aforementioned speaker, the boy he had been looking for.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The boy was shorter than him, with dark brown hair. His face was all scratched, small wounds gracing his cheekbones. His hands were all scraped too, the joints around his fingers bloodied. His green shirt was buttoned haphazardly, as if he had been in a hurry to put it on. Most alarmingly of all, the boy was emanating particles of enchantment. Someone had put a spell on him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He’s been given a memory potion,” Philza explained later that night, after Tommy had finally convinced the boy to come with him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>They were in the dining room, the chairs pulled from the table and formed into a circle, with the boy’s chair in the center.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“So his memory’s been wiped?” Wilbur asked tentatively, holding a small tray of bandages. Tommy grabbed one from the tray, dressing the wounds around the boy’s hands. Tommy had insisted he be the one to do it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, but I don’t know how much of it,” Phil explained, looking up at the boy in front of him, “How much do you remember?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The kid was quiet for a moment, his sky-blue eyes focused on his hand as Tommy carefully bandaged it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My dad,” he began, his voice small. He finally looked up at Phil as he continued, “I remember my dad.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil smiled reassuringly, “That’s good. Do you remember his name?” he inquired, leaning closer to the kid as he waited for his response.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“N…No. He—” the boy frowned, bringing a hand to his temple as he attempts to remember, “I don’t remember his name…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you… remember your name?” Phil asked hesitantly. Tommy finally finished cleaning up the boy’s scrapes, sitting back in his chair as he waits for the other boy to answer.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I do,” the kid muttered, staring at his bandaged joints, then sending a small smile towards Tommy. Tommy responded with a big grin, proud that he was able to clean it up properly, the way Phil had taught him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s Tubbo,” the boy said.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Tommy wakes up.</p><p>Another fucking weird dream. Maybe strange dreams were a side-effect of his sickness. Then again, how would Tommy know. Seeing as how Phil, Wilbur and Techno won’t even admit that Tommy might die from the disease.</p><p>Moonlight shines into Tommy’s tent from outside, and Tommy can just about hear the crackle of the campfire. It was their second night, with the day being spent travelling, trying to speak as little as possible to his family, and staring at wide grass fields that seemed to stretch on for forever.</p><p>A chill surrounds Tommy, the midnight air cold and unrelenting; unlike yesterday, when Techno’s sleeping presence next to him seemed to come with some sort of placebic warmth. And unlike yesterday, Tommy’s dream isn’t lost to the recesses of his mind the moment he wakes.</p><p>A dream about his first meeting with Tubbo. That one delivered quite a sting. Tommy brings a hand up to touch the soft petals of the flowers atop his head. There’s a pang of pain from the initial touch, Tommy’s fingers stilling as he waits for the hurt to dissipate.</p><p>Tommy missed Tubbo.</p><p>That was an emotion Tommy had become well-accustomed to during his exile. Days spent hoping he would still be alive the next day, just barely holding on to the pathetic wish that he might one day see his friend again.</p><p>This was a feeling that Tommy had felt when he and Tubbo were fighting against Dream. When Dream had brought them into his little obsidian-built lair, and held a sword against Tubbo’s back, chanting over and over that he was going to kill the other boy. Tommy had thought that his friend— his <em>only</em> friend, would die that day. And as Tommy said his final goodbyes to Tubbo, he had already begun to miss him.</p><p>A flower sprouts from Tommy’s head.</p><p>The pain is familiar now. It doesn’t make Tommy jolt as much as it did yesterday. Tommy’s hand continues to dance across poppy petals, his fingertips brushing against their stems. This was so dumb. At this rate, Tommy would die before they can make it to the house. Tommy knew it, and he was sure that everyone else who had gone on this stupid trip knew it as well. They were all just keeping it a secret.</p><p>They were all lying to him.</p><p>Tommy had been doing much better before he had left his house. He was doing just fine with a few health potions and glasses of milk. He could have healed himself. Tommy didn’t need to go back to their fucking home, and he sure as hell didn’t need Phil, Wilbur and Techno breathing down his neck every few seconds.</p><p>He had been hopeful, briefly. That whatever strains had been built around him and his family could be fixed. But Tommy knew that was all just a lie now, like most things that concerned his so called ‘family’. That night, when Techno had comforted him and made Tommy feel safe, something that Tommy hadn’t truly felt in a very long time— Tommy had nearly thought that maybe <em>now</em>, things would go back to normal.</p><p>That Technoblade wouldn’t hate him anymore. That maybe, if Techno didn’t hate him, the piglin would be able to convince Phil to forgive Tommy too. And then, Philza would just admit that he had been lying the whole time, and Tommy would forgive him in a heartbeat. Wilbur would apologize too, and they would all hug and go back home, not to the SMP but their real home, <em>and maybe they would start living there again, and they would get Tubbo and—</em></p><p>A flower sprouts from Tommy’s head.</p><p>Tommy hisses, pulling his hand away to find his fingers coated in blood.</p><p>That was another lie. Tommy almost laughs. Philza lied to him, Wilbur lied to him, Techno lied to him, and now, even Tommy was lying to himself. It would be funny if it didn’t make Tommy want to just keel over and cry. He was going to fucking die here, out in the woods, surrounded by a family who knew it, and refused to so much as tell him.</p><p>Did they think he was stupid? That Tommy wouldn’t be able to tell that his own body was beginning to get weaker and weaker, that he was dying as the days slowly crept by?</p><p>Then again, they had always looked down on him.</p><p>Like when Wilbur went bat-shit crazy and bullied him every day, because the man knew that the only person who’d never fight back and never even attempt to leave him would be Tommy. Then there were Phil and Techno leaving him behind to go live in the mountains, preaching about anarchy and scolding Tommy for choosing to side with a government that had made Tommy feel ounces of joy that the two men didn’t even bother to provide him with. And Tubbo, betraying and exiling Tommy as if he didn’t even matter.</p><p>That was probably the truth, wasn’t it? They were all looking down on him.</p><p>They were like Dream, in that sense.</p><p>A flower sprouts from Tommy’s head.</p><p>Gasping wetly, Tommy clasps at the sides of his head, clenching his teeth. His body is shaking, shudders running up and down his frame as a line of blood is drawn down his forehead, across his eye.</p><p>No. His family wasn’t like Dream. They couldn’t be. Tommy had known them since he was a child, had lived and laughed and cried with them, and they hurt him— Prime, they hurt him so damn much; but they weren’t like <em>Dream</em>.</p><p>Tommy’s thoughts still for a moment as he draws his eyes closed, pain both physical and mental clashing against each other.</p><p>Did Tommy <em>really</em> know his family, though? Tommy had used to think that Wilbur was a hero, a shining revolutionist amid a corrupt government. But Wilbur took that image and destroyed it with stacks of TNT and a control room. Tommy thought he had known Tubbo, thought that his best friend would never betray him but look at where that had gotten him. Left alone on a small plot of land with Dream for company.</p><p>And of course, there were Technoblade and Phil. The men Tommy thought he could look up to. Thought he could rely on them to save him. But no, all they had ever done for him was spawn withers and destroy the country that Tommy devoted his whole being to keep safe.</p><p>A flower sprouts from Tommy’s head.</p><p>How many times had Tommy been betrayed? How many times was Tommy going to <em>let </em>himself be betrayed? The family Tommy thought he had known like the back of his hand, now contorted into strangers that only made him feel hurt. They were manipulative and cruel.</p><p>
  <em>They were like Dream.</em>
</p><p>Phil was keeping Tommy’s disease a secret for a reason. But what if it wasn’t just Tommy’s death that they were trying to keep unrevealed to him? If Tommy is right and his family had become like Dream, which yes, they proved to be, then—</p><p>
  <em>Are they trying to kill Tommy?</em>
</p><p>An elaborate ploy, set up by his own family to<em> kill</em> him? Hiding it under the guise of sending him off for a cure? Tommy shivers, the night suddenly feeling a lot colder than before. A piece of firewood within the campfire spits embers and breaks in half, the loud sound making Tommy jump.</p><p>He feels horrible just considering it. Surely, not— despite all the terrible things his family had done to him, they wouldn’t drag him out here to kill him… right?</p><p>
  <em>Right?</em>
</p><p>A flower sprouts from Tommy’s head.</p><p>Tommy’s eyesight is blurring now, red seeping into his eyes as another flower grows, breaking through the skin of his scalp and sending rivulets of blood down his face. He was sure that he looked proper insane right about now.</p><p>What if the cure had been back in the Dream SMP all along? Or what if Tommy staying in bed and drinking a few more health pots would have been enough to heal him, and the sickness was just some fucked up version of the flu? Desperately, Tommy tries to remember the last time Phil had given him any health pots to drink.</p><p>Tommy is about to throw up, acidic bile rising in his throat. He lurches a bit, his hand absentmindedly grasping at the edge of a flower that had grown dangerously close to his forehead. Tommy freezes, realizing that the flowers were now making their way to his face.</p><p>In a few days’ time, the flowers would be sprouting from his eyes. After that, they’d begin suffocating him.</p><p>“Tommy?” it’s Wilbur, his voice casual and almost kind, at least a few meters away from the tent.</p><p>His gentle tone only serves to bring shudders down Tommy’s back. If Tommy’s hunch was right, then that meant Wilbur was a killer too. His own brother. The man Tommy had looked up to for years. Tears slide down Tommy’s face, and he bites back a loud sob.</p><p>A flower sprouts from Tommy’s head.</p><p>Tommy can’t stand this. He won’t let them kill him. They can betray him all they want, but—</p><p>
  <em>Tommy wasn’t going to fucking die. </em>
</p><p>When Wilbur raises the tent’s flaps, he finds it empty.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>It didn’t take Wilbur very long to find him.</p><p>He was a ghost, after all. All he had to do was think about his brother; focus on the blue of his eyes, the fair blonde of his hair, and the blood-red of the poppies sprouted from his head. Wilbur blinks his eyes closed as he concentrates, materializing in front of the boy in a matter of seconds.</p><p>Tommy is running, leaping across a part of the forest that Wilbur doesn’t recognize. He immediately takes in the number of new flowers grown from Tommy’s head, one of which had sprouted from his forehead. Wilbur stammers to speak as Tommy continues bolting into the woods, having not sensed Wilbur’s presence.</p><p>“Tommy!” Wilbur yells, his incorporeal form struggling to keep up with Tommy’s senseless running. Tommy staggers when he hears the voice, sending Wilbur a panicked glance as he attempts to run faster. Wilbur frowns, “What the hell? Stop running!”</p><p>Tommy ignores him again, taking a quick turn. Anger, confusion, and panic begin to flare within Wilbur’s chest. He allows himself a bit of anger through his tone as he screeches, “Tommy! You’re gonna get fucking hurt!”</p><p>The boy startles at the voice, turning back around to shoot Wilbur a fearful look. Tommy’s scared expression is enough to make Wilbur’s exasperation die down. As Tommy looks back, his foot catches on the root of a tree, the kid stumbling down with a painful thump.</p><p>“Shit. Come on—” Wilbur starts, leaning down to help Tommy up. His hands come to grab hold of Tommy’s shaking frame, Wilbur flinching in surprise when Tommy slaps his hand away. Tommy doesn’t ever spare him a glance as he stands and begins sprinting into the depths of the forest once again.</p><p>It is then that Wilbur realizes that there was something very wrong. He materializes beside Tommy, the kid bounding past a small creek, water splashing everywhere as he takes a misstep into it.</p><p>“Tommy? Your ankle might be sprained, you shouldn’t…” Wilbur’s words die on his tongue as Tommy continues without fail, albeit limping a bit, to run deeper into the uncharted areas of the woods, “We’re gonna get lost here, man! What is up with you?”</p><p>Wilbur is yelling again, taking his chance as Tommy slows down a bit, the pain from his ankle probably growing.</p><p>His spectral hand grabs hold of his brother’s wrist, “Tommy, please. Tell me what’s wrong.” Wilbur pleads, looking into Tommy’s panicked eyes.</p><p>Tommy is shaking, shuddering breaths racking through his body as he heaves with exhaustion. There are tears streaming down his cheeks, and a string of blood running down his forehead from the newly sprouted flowers.</p><p>They stare at one another, Wilbur’s heart aching as he takes in Tommy’s petrified look. It’s the same look he would give Wilbur when they were in Pogtopia, his eyes brimming with tears as Wilbur yelled and hurt him. The memory makes Wilbur’s eyes water too, his lip quivering as he attempts to speak.</p><p>“Tommy. You’re scaring me. What’s—”</p><p>“Good!” Tommy exclaims, his loud voice resonating across the forest. That probably wasn’t wise. A zombie or a skeleton could have heard him. Tommy doesn’t seem to care as he yells, with tears brimming in his eyes, “Y-You deserve to be fuckin’ scared! You—”</p><p>Tommy collapses into himself, cutting himself off as sobs begin filling the air around them. He gasps wetly, and Wilbur watches with horror as another flower grows from his head, the poppy sprouting from his left cheekbone this time. Blood rolls down Tommy’s face as the flower breaks through his skin, blood and tears mixing on his features.</p><p>“You fucking assholes! Y-You want to—” Tommy begins, pausing for a moment as another sob leaves his throat, hiccups endlessly heaving out of him. Wilbur attempts to draw himself closer, hesitantly raising a hand to touch his brother’s trembling shoulders. Tommy skitters away, his feet kicking into the dirt as he attempts to get farther away from Wilbur. Guilt spreads out from within Wilbur’s chest as he regards Tommy’s fearful frown.</p><p>“Don’t fucking touch me!” Tommy screams, and Wilbur can just about make out the sound of rattling bones nearby. A sudden laugh makes its way out from Tommy’s chest, sarcastic and full of pain, “What the hell are you guys trying to do?”</p><p>“W-What?” Wilbur whispers in disbelief. Tommy must be hallucinating right now. The flowers were probably messing with his head, “Tommy. Listen to me, okay? I think the flowers are fucking up your head. You’re hallucinating. I need to—”</p><p>“No! I am done listening to you and your fucking lies!” Tommy responds, attempting to get up. He falls down to the ground with a pathetic cry, his shaking hands grabbing at the ankle that he no-doubt sprained, “And I am not hallucinating, asshole. Fuck you!” he spits, his voice beginning to sound raw from all the yelling.</p><p>“Lies? Tommy, I haven’t been lying to you,” Wilbur says. He hadn’t been lying to Tommy. Keeping the truth from him, sure, but he wasn’t <em>lying</em>. Wasn’t he?</p><p>“Oh, shut the fuck up. I <em>know</em>. I know that I’m going to die,” Tommy says darkly, still trying to get up. When he fails, he begins to crawl away. The sight is so desperate and anguished, so full of a type of hopelessness and terror that Wilbur had never seen on Tommy before.</p><p>“You guys know it too, don’t you?” Tommy sobs, anger and sadness mixing into an incomprehensible emotion as Wilbur looks on, stunned into silence, “B-Bringing me out here… taking me to our home— what the fuck is your guys’ plan?”</p><p>“Plan? We j-just want to help you,” Wilbur replies, his voice turning soft. Did Tommy really think they had some ulterior motive? Wilbur couldn’t blame him; this was probably just the flowers’ doing. Phil didn’t mention anything about hallucinations, but—</p><p>Tommy is quiet again, a scowl overtaking his face, “I… I don’t even know who you guys are anymore,” another tear streaks down the kid’s face, his angered features beginning to morph into that of a childish pout. He suddenly looks so young again, and Wilbur’s heart wrenches.</p><p>“What… do you mean?” Wilbur asks. He’d never seen Tommy act like this, full of regret and disbelief and pain and other emotions that Wilbur couldn’t name. This seemed far worse than any lie that the flowers could conjure in Tommy’s mind. This seemed like something Tommy had realized himself, something that even the boy didn’t want to believe.</p><p>Tommy snivels, shaking and sobbing into the ground beneath him. Wilbur doesn’t get any closer, knowing that the kid would just try to run again.</p><p>“Are you guys going to kill me?” Tommy asks, trying to keep his voice level. He fails, sobs and hiccups following right after. Wilbur’s back goes rigid from shock. He’s quiet, his mouth left agape as he processes the words that had just left his brother’s mouth.</p><p>Tommy thought that they wanted to kill him.</p><p>Wilbur feels a hot tear slide down his face, his eyesight obscuring. God, this hurt more than being stabbed to death. Wilbur clutches at his chest. He couldn’t breathe, could no longer see, and his mouth opens and closes around air as he tries to offer Tommy a reply.</p><p>Wilbur could say no. It would be easy. Convince the poor kid that his family would never hurt him. That this was just a hallucination caused by the Flower Head, built from delirium and an irrational fear. But he knew Tommy wouldn’t believe him. Because this wasn’t from the flowers.</p><p>And even though it wasn’t true, even though Wilbur would never, <em>ever</em> consider doing such a thing to his brother, it was an entirely understandable thought, wasn’t it? Wilbur had done horrible things. Abused and manipulated his own brother for months. Let dynamite blow up all over L’manberg, leaving Tommy alone to deal with the consequences. He’d never killed Tommy, but he had hurt him. Hurt him so damn much. No matter how much Wilbur tried not to believe it, and despite how many days Wilbur had spent in the afterlife wishing for Tommy’s happiness—</p><p>Wilbur hadn’t killed Tommy yet, but he was sure as hell that he had killed Tommy’s smile a long time ago.</p><p>And he’s crying now, joining his brother as they painfully sob together in the dark.</p><p>“P-Please, please tell me it isn’t true,” Tommy pleads, finally standing with shaky legs, looking down at Wilbur with so much dead hope, tears and blood streaming down his face.</p><p>A rattle of bones. The nocking of an arrow.</p><p>“It’s not true, Tommy,” Wilbur says, the exact moment an arrow is shot into Tommy’s leg.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“— up, for Prime’s sake, wake the fuck up, Techno!”</p><p>Techno jumps up, blankets and pillows strewn about on the tent floor, pulling out his netherite sword from underneath his pillow, “What? What is it?” he asks, alert as he looks up at Wilbur’s panicked face.</p><p>“I-It’s Tommy. He went into the woods and—” Wilbur begins, pausing a bit as Techno runs over to his pack of armor, slipping on an iron chest plate. That would be enough to keep him safe from any stray mobs, “He—uhm. He got shot by a skeleton. He didn’t have any armor,” Wilbur finishes, running his hand through his hair.</p><p>“Is Phil…?” Techno asks, letting the question hang in the air as Wilbur processes it.</p><p>“Yeah. He’s already flying there. I-I told him the coordinates,” Wilbur stammers, following Techno as the piglin leaves his tent, making his way towards Carl.</p><p>Technoblade pinches at the space between his eyebrows, “Why the hell was he out there?” he grunts, grabbing hold of Carl’s saddle, hoisting himself up with a huff. Wilbur falls quiet again as Techno snaps the reins, Carl galloping into the woods without any further prompting.</p><p>“He… He thought we wanted to kill him,” Wilbur mutters, no longer visible, leaving Techno alone in the forest. Techno’s eyes widen, his grip on the reins tightening in incredulity.</p><p>“Take a left here. Tommy’s at <em>19.85, 65.70, 119.20</em>,” Wilbur whispers, his voice dripping with guilt.</p><p>Techno nods resolutely, taking note of the coordinates as he whispers the well-known navigation spell under his breath. As the final syllable leaves his mouth, numbers become visible to him, attached to his vision. They’re his coordinates, Techno’s gaze snapping up to them as he gauges how far he is from Tommy.</p><p>
  <em>He thought we wanted to kill him.</em>
</p><p>Prime, what was Tommy thinking? Techno frowns to himself as he enters a part of the forest he had never seen before. Techno had already killed him once before. It didn’t carry too much significance, wasn’t worthy of taking away a canon life, thank Prime— but Techno had done it before. Had killed a kid he had treated like…</p><p>Like what? A friend? A brother? Titles like those weren’t worthy for Tommy. Tommy was a <em>traitor.</em> Had hurt Techno enough for him to shoot a firework rocket at the kid. And when Techno had healed enough to actually try and fix things, Tommy decided to betray him <em>again</em>.</p><p>But did Technoblade want to kill Tommy? Take his final life? Techno couldn’t provide an answer to that. Before this had all happened, he was sure that if Tommy stepped out of line again, if the kid wronged him in any way, he wouldn’t show any mercy. Techno had done worse before, after all.</p><p>If that was true, then why did Techno even go on this stupid trip? Saving a kid that he hated with his entire being. And then Techno had to get all soft and comfort Tommy when he was having that nightmare. That just made it worse, didn’t it?</p><p>Techno shoves all these thoughts away as he finally makes it to his destination, Wilbur materializing himself as the piglin jumps down from Carl’s back. There’s light streaming from behind a tree, the gentle glow disparate from the current situation. Phil must have brought a lantern with him.</p><p>Techno’s assumption is confirmed when he comes closer to the tree, finding Phil kneeling beside a crying Tommy. His heart aching at the sight, Techno strides over, his ears picking up the distant clack of bones and the draw of a bowstring. Techno scowls, inclining his head towards the sound.</p><p>Behind one of the trees is a skeleton, nocking another arrow as Techno’s angered gaze settles on it. Its hands move with a subtle shake, its fingers moving automatically towards the center of its bowstring, drawing it back as it readies to fire another arrow.</p><p>An illogical anger flares up within Techno, and he steps towards the skeleton with his netherite sword in hand. The skeleton fires the arrow at him, and Techno catches it with his left hand, not even breaking a sweat. There is no shift in the skeleton’s movements, as if it hadn’t even noticed Technoblade’s presence. Techno doesn’t give it any more time to react as he plunges his netherite sword in between the skeleton’s ribs.</p><p>The dark magic enabling the skeleton breaks apart, the creature giving a soundless scream as it falls apart into a pile of bones underneath Techno. Technoblade scowls at it, “Serves you right, asshole,” he mutters, kicking the bones as he turns back to the others.</p><p>Tommy is crying, his body shaking as he pushes Phil’s hands away, “D-Don’t come near me!” he yells, curling himself into a ball. Phil’s scowling with worry, sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he kneels closer to Tommy, dirt staining his trousers.</p><p>“Please, let us help you, Tommy,” Phil says, nearly whispering, “I need to patch up that arrow wound, and I think your ankle is sprained.”</p><p>“I don’t fucking <em>care!</em> I’d rather die out here than with a bunch of liars,” Tommy cries, struggling as Philza moves closer, scooping the boy up without any effort, “No! Let me go!” Tommy’s screaming, his weak arms pounding against Phil’s chest. His shrieks are deafening, and Techno holds back the impulse to cover his ears.</p><p>“I don’t wanna die! <em>Please</em>—” Tommy screams, throat scratchy and painful. Techno worries that his esophagus might tear if he keeps yelling like that.</p><p>“Die? No, no— you’re not going to die,” Phil says softly, pulling out a health potion and bringing it to Tommy’s lips. Tommy keeps his mouth shut, turning his head away from the liquid.</p><p>“Stop fucking lying to me for one second!” Tommy screeches, another flower blossoming from his head, as if to accentuate his words. Phil falls silent, his hand with the potion stilling in the air as the man grasps for a response.</p><p>“We’re not going to kill you, Tommy,” Techno announces, not really knowing what else to say. Tommy’s gaze is drawn to him, Techno hyper-focused on it as Phil gives him a surprised look. Tommy stares at him, and Techno struggles for a better response, “If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so already.”</p><p>“Techno—” Wilbur begins, but Techno silences the ghost with a movement of his hand.</p><p>Tommy looks so deep into Techno’s eyes, peering into the perfect white of his pupils, searching for something unnamable. Techno holds his gaze, not backing down, hoping to Prime that for once, Tommy would listen.</p><p>He’s crying as he speaks, tears still running down his face relentlessly like the blood dripping from the arrow wound, “Okay,” is all Tommy says, his voice scratchy and filled to the brim with a deep despair that Techno didn’t want to dwell on.</p><p>They carry him back to camp, Phil and Techno on Carl, hoping not to jostle Tommy too much as Phil quickly bandages the area around the wound, being careful not to touch the arrow. They are silent the whole ride, the only sounds being Tommy’s pained whimpers and the hooting of owls.</p><p>The whole time, Techno tries not to let his tears fall.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Phil is quivering as he sets Tommy down in the tent.</p><p>The kid won’t be able to move for the rest of the trip, most likely. And Phil didn’t have any more time to spare to send Tommy off to a proper doctor. They would need to fix this up with health potions, which they at least had an abundance of. It would take weeks to heal with just the pots, and it’ll scar pretty bad, but it’s good enough for their circumstances.</p><p>Tommy is silent, had been quiet ever since Techno had said those words to him.</p><p>
  <em>“If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so already.”</em>
</p><p>Phil had seen Techno kill Tommy before. The piglin had never taken a canon life away, but had killed Tommy nevertheless. Despite all of that, Phil knew deep in his heart that Techno would never permanently kill Tommy. Would never take that poor kid’s final life away. Especially not now, when their family seemed to be teetering on an edge between trust and hatred.</p><p>Fuck, Phil really is a terrible father.</p><p>His hands are shaking as he undresses Tommy’s wound, trying to clean it up better before allowing the kid some earned rest. Philza’s eyes are brimming with tears, and he keeps his face carefully stoic as he focuses on his work, settling into the rhythmic pull and removal of the old bandages.</p><p>
  <em>“We’re not going to kill you, Tommy.”</em>
</p><p>Why the hell did Techno say that? Phil still didn’t know why Tommy had fled from the camp. Hadn’t bothered to listen to Wilbur’s explanation when the ghost manifested next to him, while Phil was sitting by the campfire and keeping watch. The moment Wilbur had even uttered the word ‘Tommy’, Phil was already picking up his sword and demanding for Wilbur to tell him what Tommy’s coordinates were.</p><p>Phil finally looks up at Tommy. The boy was staring at his leg, the cloth of his pants stained a bright red, nearly matching in color with the poppies atop his head. A silence hangs over the both of them, the weight of something unspoken, something that Phil wanted to avoid with all of his being, was boring down on the two.</p><p>A father and son, coming to terms with the heavy distrust that had been born between them.</p><p>“Am I dying, Phil?” Tommy asks, and Phil can almost hear the boy praying for him not to lie. Phil doesn’t.</p><p>“Yes,” Phil breathes, his body tense, “Yes. There’s a high chance that the Flower Head will kill you.”</p><p>“Flower Head,” Tommy sighs, “That’s its name?”</p><p>Phil hums, “Yeah. It’s uhm— it usually happens when the victim is yearning for something. A past, that they can’t go back to.”</p><p>“That explains the dreams, I guess,” Tommy mumbles, “And the only cure is for me to go home?”</p><p>“Not just any home. You’d need to go wherever your fondest memories lie.”</p><p>“My fondest memories…” Tommy repeats, laughing a bit. The laugh turns into a pained hiccup, and then into a loud sob.</p><p>“I-I’m sorry, Phil—” Tommy whispers, his voice almost lost to the terrible bout of hiccups that wrack through him, “I-I thought, you guys were gonna— oh, thank Prime— I thought you were—”</p><p>“I know,” Phil says gravely, his tears finally streaking down his face.</p><p>“I’m so fucking sorry,” Tommy sniffles, “I didn’t mean— I don’t know why I’d even t-think that—”</p><p>“Shh…” Phil shushes, embracing Tommy. The boy doesn’t move away from his hold. Instead, Tommy pushes himself even deeper into Phil’s arms, “I understand. It’s okay.”</p><p>But it wasn’t okay. At least, it wasn’t for Phil. His own son, thinking that his father, his <em>family</em>— were trying to kill him. What made it worse is the fact that Phil doesn’t even blame him for thinking so. Phil knew that he had wronged Tommy, but <em>fuck</em>, he didn’t know that the poor kid thought Phil wanted to fucking kill him.</p><p>Phil had always thought that it was all just the government’s fault, that Wilbur’s death, Techno’s betrayal, and Tommy’s possible corruption were all caused by L’manberg. But sitting here, with Tommy crying and trembling in his arms, Phil realizes that it wasn’t just the government’s fault.</p><p>It was his, too. If he had been there for his sons. If he had come to the Dream SMP a little sooner and healed Wilbur, helped Techno and saved Tommy, they wouldn’t be in this fucking mess. But Phil had been too busy exploring and keeping himself alive in the more dangerous parts of the world, trying to relive the glory of his past years. He hadn’t even known about his sons fighting in a war until he received one of Wilbur’s letters, about a month late.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” Phil cries, his elytra wings shuddering from the pent-up tension, “I would never hurt you, son.”</p><p>Tommy raises his head, his eyes red, “You already did, though,” he mutters, his frame moving away from Phil’s embrace. Pain blooms within Phil’s chest, and it takes all of his strength not to just break out into more tears. Phil stares at his shaking hands, the sound of shuffling filling the tent as Tommy draws himself away from his father.</p><p>“I know, I-I know, Tommy. Fuck, I’m sorry. I just, killing Wilbur and seeing him give everything up for L’manberg, I couldn’t stand it— and seeing you do the same exact thing, it made me…” Phil looks up, gauging Tommy’s face. He’s met by silence, and Tommy’s sleeping face, the boy curled up amongst the blankets, awash with exhaustion.</p><p>Phil sighs, the apology dying on his tongue. They could talk about this tomorrow. Tommy was probably exhausted, with the sickness eating away at him, and now he had a sprained ankle and a damn arrow wound.</p><p>“Goodnight, son,” Phil whispers, positioning Tommy on the tent floor and drawing the blanket up to the boy’s shoulders.</p><p>When Phil steps outside, he finds both Wilbur and Techno hovering near the entrance. They startle when he walks out, and Wilbur hurries for something to say, “We j-just wanted to make sure that—” he begins, getting cut off by Techno’s solemn look.</p><p>“Is he… going to be alright?” Techno asks, and Phil gives him a quick nod, afraid to speak in case his voice would come out trembling.</p><p>“Are<em> you</em> going to be alright?” Wilbur asks, floating closer to Phil.</p><p>Offering him a tight smile, Phil nods again and walks towards his tent, exiting the scene as quickly as he had entered it.</p><p>If Wilbur or Techno heard any sobs filtering out of Phil’s tent that night, they keep it to themselves.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>bro... so much happened in the smp in this week and I'm still reeling lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. oh, where do we go from here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Soon, they will reach their home.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>chap title: The Family Crest - Daggers<br/>Warning: there's a sorta graphic part here where Phil cleans up Tommy's wound.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“This is so dumb.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What do you mean? This is fun,” Tubbo smiled, squeezing the golden honeycomb in his hands into a waxy pulp, the honey dripping out in a steady stream. He dropped the remaining beeswax into a cheesecloth set carefully atop a deep bowl, straining out any honey that might be left within the honeycomb’s cervices.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“For you and the elderly, that’s for sure,” Tommy muttered, taking another bite out of his honeycomb. The wax itself was bland, but the honey within was almost sickeningly sweet. Just the way Tommy liked it. Honey coated his fingers, golden as the sun shined into their glass bee farm.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tubbo had been living with them for a while, now. For about 3 months it seemed. The memory of his father’s name never became clearer, with the only prevailing knowledge in Tubbo’s mind being that his father had large ram horns, and that he'd left Tubbo on the side of a road, all by himself. And despite Philza’s attempts, it was impossible to locate anyone who seemed to recognize Tubbo.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tubbo stilled for a moment as a bee came to rest on his honey-covered hands. The boy lets out a small laugh, making Tommy smile despite himself. Tubbo seemed to like it here, and as of yet, wasn’t planning on leaving. Phil and the others didn’t seem to mind, either. It just seemed natural for Tubbo to be a part of their family. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I guess you’re just too much of a child to understand the appeal,” Wilbur remarked, walking closer to them with a bucket of fresh honeycomb, ready to be squished into pulp. Tubbo laughed again, high-pitched and shrill. Tommy attempted to pout even though a smile began to pull at his lips.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“By the way, shouldn’t you be helping Tubbo?” Technoblade called from the middle of the bee farm, flowers kissing the tips of his boots as he held up an empty bucket, waiting for Phil to drop in another piece of honeycomb, “You’re just sitting there, eatin’ like a pig.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Look who’s talking,” Tommy quipped, taking another big bite out of his honeycomb, just to spite him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Techno set the bucket on the ground for a moment, tying his long, pink hair up as he says, “I ain’t even fully piglin anymore.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It had already been a year since Technoblade’s ascension into a god, and though Tommy missed how Techno looked like before, he couldn’t deny that braiding Techno’s hair alongside Wilbur was pretty fun.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sunlight streamed through the bee farm’s glass walls, dust particles floating about in the air. The scent of honey and flowers was thick. The bees buzzed in their wooden farms, humming little tunes as Phil continued to collect little pieces of honeycomb. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You better not be making Tubbo do all the work, Tommy,” Phil gently scolded from the far end of the farm, his hands coated in honey as he pulled out one last honeycomb piece, dropping it into Techno’s bucket. The bees buzzed around him, docile enough not to sting him. Phil put the lid back on the bee’s hive, turning back around to face Tommy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tommy was about ready to offer a quick retort when Tubbo interrupted him, “It’s alright. I like squeezing out the honey.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Even so, Tommy shouldn’t be sitting around doing nothing while we do all the work,” Wilbur said, sitting next to Tommy and ruffling his hair with his honey-coated hands.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ew! Get your sticky fuckin’ hands off me!” Tommy shrieked, Wilbur paying him no mind as he rubbed his hand on Tommy’s cheek, a thin layer of honey now coating Tommy’s face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Or what, dumbass?” Wilbur laughed, letting out a loud yell as Tommy’s sticky hands grasped a tuft of his hair in return. Tubbo’s laughter began ringing across the bee farm. Techno muttered scoldingly under his breath, even though he was smiling. Phil simply sighed, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunbeams.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They laughed and argued until light fell, their hands and hair coated in honey.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Phil awakens with tears down his face.</p><p>Light is streaming into his eye, blinding him for a moment. It feels vaguely familiar. Was he dreaming about something like this?</p><p>“Phil?” someone calls, drawing the entrance flaps of Phil’s tent open. More light spills into Phil’s eyes, the man grunting as he blinks spots away. When he’s gathered his bearings, he finds Technoblade standing at the front of his tent, eyebrows drawn low in a worried frown.</p><p>Phil rubs at his eyes, trying to remove the tear stains, “Sorry. I overslept,” he mutters, grasping at his bucket hat lain against the corner of the tent. Techno is quiet for a second, staring at Phil’s disheveled state.</p><p>“It’s alright. Wilbur and I got everythin’ covered,” Techno says, stretching out a hand to help Phil up. Philza takes it as he gives the piglin a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. Techno looked so sullen, almost wary as Phil walks over to the entrance of the tent, gathering his things as he went.</p><p>“Is Tommy awake?” Phil inquires, leaning down to grab his sword and a leather bag about half-full with health pots. Techno nods at him, following Phil as the man strides outside. Wilbur is there waiting, floating beside the horse cart. He locks eyes with Phil, the ghost sending Tommy’s tent a worried glance.</p><p>Wilbur draws himself closer to them as Phil speaks, “How is he?”</p><p>“He isn’t really talking,” Wilbur starts, the three of them dawdling near the horse cart. Tommy’s tent seemingly looms over them, a dark shadow of worry cast onto Phil.</p><p>“I think… I think he wants to see you,” Wilbur finishes, looking up at Phil, “He looks really bad, Phil.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Techno asks, his voice trembling for a moment.</p><p>Wilbur swallows, sending Tommy’s tent another lingering stare, “That wound of his needs stitching.”</p><p>Phil sighs, looking at the two men before him. The children he had raised. One was broken and cold, and the other was dead. Phil closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. This could be his chance to fix everything. To save a son before anything worse happened to him.</p><p>Taking a final inhale, Phil steps towards Tommy’s tent. Drawing the tent’s flaps open, he finds the boy still lying down, though his eyes are faintly open. Flowers, bright red poppies covering the entire upper left side of Tommy’s face, their petals softly grazing the top of his left eye.</p><p>Tommy is silent as his eyes snap to meet Phil’s. The kid takes a laborious breath, as if he were having trouble simply breathing.</p><p>“Shit, Tommy,” Phil mutters before he can stop himself. He kneels down in front of the boy, taking out one of the health potions in his leather bag. He hands it to Tommy, watching as the poor kid gulps it down in one go, despite the heavy medicinal taste.</p><p>Tommy wipes at the corner of his mouth afterwards, scowling at the bitter flavor overtaking his tongue. Phil gazes at his arrow wound, the arrow head still embedded inside Tommy’s leg. Phil scowls a bit at the sight. Now would probably be the right time to remove it, since the wound wasn’t bleeding as much anymore.</p><p>“That health pot might help a bit, but you should still hold on to something,” Phil says, shuffling closer to Tommy’s wound.</p><p>Tommy looks petrified, “Y-You’re gonna pull out the arrow?” his voice is scratchy, unsurprising— given how much he had been screaming last night.</p><p>Phil nods, pulling the bag of medical supplies he had left in Tommy’s tent closer to him, “Yeah. I’m gonna need to stich it up, too.”</p><p>“Wait! Isn’t that gonna hurt?” Tommy exclaims, his face paling. Well, paler than it already was, that is.</p><p>Pulling a small basin out of the bag of supplies, Phil nods again, keeping his tone as gentle and comforting as possible, “It will. The health pot will help numb it, though.”</p><p>Tommy watches as Phil pulls out a canteen of water, pouring it into the basin. Phil is silent as he threads a needle, squinting as he attempts to make out where the eye is. Rolling up Tommy’s pant-leg, Phil readies to get the job done. He hopes that the health pot is enough to keep the pain relatively low.</p><p>“Bite down on something,” Phil instructs, looking up at Tommy as the kid picks up a pillow, putting the edge of the cushion between his teeth.</p><p>It is almost familiar. The sensation of pulling out an arrowhead from the recesses of a wound. Phil had done it to himself countless times, can clearly remember how it had felt. The smell of blood in the air, the murmur of distant yells and strong-scented potions. Phil can almost make out the loud clanging of swords and the sight of bodies surrounding him. All dead.</p><p>Phil offers Tommy a sympathetic look as he digs his fingers into the wound, hoping to get a good grip on the arrowhead. Tommy lets out a muffled shriek, biting down onto the edge of the pillow. Tommy’s lucky that the arrow had been so dull and old, and that the skeleton firing it didn’t have any skill with the bow.</p><p>If it were a skilled marksman with sharpened arrows, then the arrowhead would probably be embedded in Tommy’s fibula. They should all thank their lucky stars that Tommy’s arrow wound was simply a puncture. Not too serious, but it could be if it got infected.</p><p>Phil finally pulls the arrow out with a grunt, a streak of blood sliding down Tommy’s calf. The boy jolts at the sensation, Phil muttering a quick apology.</p><p>Bringing a wet cloth to the wound, Phil does his best to clean it. Afterwards come the stitches. Phil gives Tommy another consoling glance, empathetic to his son’s pain. Tommy nods at him, and Phil draws the needle and thread close to the wound’s edge.</p><p>He tries to do it as quick and efficiently as he can, Tommy’s cries of pain nearly unbearable to Philza’s ears. Phil focuses on the rhythmic thread and pull, not wasting a second as he stitches the wound into a straight line. Phil finishes the job with some sewing scissors, clipping the end of the thread.</p><p>Tommy lets the pillow drop from his mouth, “F-Fuck,” he mutters, squinting his eyes closed. Phil quickly wraps the wound in bandages, relief washing over him now that the job was done.</p><p>Phil clears away the supplies, and moves closer to his son, “You’re gonna be alright, now.”</p><p>Tommy stares at him as Phil puts a hand on the nape of his neck, since the flowers atop his head were no-doubt painful.</p><p>“Do you think we’ll be able to reach the house in time?” Tommy quietly asks as Phil hands him a canteen, a mixture of milk and a health pot, to keep both the flowers and the pain from the wound at bay.</p><p>Phil is silent for a second, pondering his response. He didn’t want to lie to Tommy again.</p><p>“I think so. We’re about a day’s travel away from the house.”</p><p>“We should… probably get going, then,” Tommy says, his eyes drawn to the floor.</p><p>Phil wonders if they should talk about last night. His apology sits at the tip of his tongue, Phil about ready to just spill his thoughts and his guilt onto the boy. Ready to just beg for Tommy’s forgiveness, ready for any type of reaction, really. He didn’t care if Tommy still hated him. He just wanted the poor kid to know he was sorry.</p><p>“Tommy… I—” Phil starts, only to be cut off by the boy.</p><p>“Save it, Phil,” Tommy says. He doesn’t sound rude or even angry.</p><p>“First, you’re going to take me to the house,” Tommy continues, taking in Phil’s confused expression with stride, “If you were telling the truth just now, then you can talk with me once we reach the house. If you were lying, then I’d be dead, and I’d never hear what you wanted to say.”</p><p>Phil is taken aback, Tommy’s harsh words about his own death ringing like a sadistic echo throughout Phil’s mind.</p><p>“You’re not going to—”</p><p>“No more lies, Phil. No more tricks. No more betrayals,” Tommy mutters, his voice almost a whisper, as if he were saying a prayer. Pleading, and carrying the weight of countless betrayals and months of pain and distrust.</p><p>Phil falls quiet, lifting Tommy up in his arms. Tommy’s arms automatically come to rest on his shoulders. Phil passingly wonders when the last time he had held Tommy like this had been, excluding last night. Probably when Tommy was still a little kid. He carries Tommy towards the entrance of his tent, Phil not even breaking a sweat.</p><p>“No more,” Phil repeats, a promise softly spoken between father and son. He steps out of the tent, quickly striding over to the horse cart, where Techno and Wilbur eagerly awaited them. As Techno helped carry Tommy onto the back of the horse cart, and as Wilbur quickly packed up Tommy’s white tent, Phil sat at the cart’s front seat.</p><p>And like a chant, Phil repeated the promise over and over in his head.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Wilbur couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tommy.</p><p>There were so many flowers now. The poppies’ bright red petals now covering the top left half of Tommy’s face. Wilbur’s eyes come to rest on the bandaged wound on Tommy’s leg, his rolled-up pants still coated in blood. Tommy’s face was pale, white and sickly under the sun’s soft light. Wilbur passingly picks up the way Tommy’s hands were shaking.</p><p>Wilbur doesn’t know whether or not to speak. Doesn’t know if he should try to move closer to the boy. Doesn’t know how to make Tommy smile and laugh like he used to. It used to be so easy. Wilbur used to be able to put an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, and the kid would laugh like there was no tomorrow. All Wilbur needed to do was say a clever joke or a mutter of praise and Tommy would beam at him, looking up at Wilbur as if the man had hung the moon and stars.</p><p>The horse cart begins to move, Techno snapping the reins. Tommy is staring at the woods, his gaze attached to the line of trees. He’s thinking about something. Wilbur used to be able to tell exactly what the boy was thinking with a glance. Now, Tommy’s face is like a puzzle. Wilbur wants to attribute it to the flowers obscuring part of his face, but even he knew that was a stupid excuse.</p><p>Wilbur notices a butterfly begin to flutter close to Tommy’s head, the insect landing on one of the flowers. Wilbur says nothing, entranced by the sight. Tommy doesn’t seem to notice as another butterfly flies closer, flittering around the flowers at the back of his head.</p><p>“Tommy,” Wilbur calls, awe evident in his tone. Tommy turns to look at him, the quick movement doing nothing to deter the butterflies dancing around his head. Wilbur sits closer to the boy, pointing to one of the butterflies.</p><p>“Look,” he mutters, Wilbur raising a hand, hoping to coerce one of the butterflies to land on it. One does, it’s vibrant purple wings slowing to a stop as it comes to rest on Wilbur’s pointer finger.</p><p>An amazed look crosses Tommy’s face, and he absentmindedly brings a hand up to touch at the petals atop his head. Wilbur stops him before he can do so, gently grabbing Tommy’s wrist. Tommy startles a bit at the sudden contact, but he doesn’t draw his hand away.</p><p>“Move slowly. You’ll scare them,” Wilbur whispers, his smile growing wider as another butterfly joins in and hovers over Tommy’s head. Tommy tentatively raises his hand again, moving at a snail’s pace. The butterfly flutters over to Tommy’s finger, resting atop his middle finger joint. Tommy’s mouth hangs open in wonderment.</p><p>Wilbur laughs a bit, “That’s more like it,” he says, taking in Tommy’s smile. Looks like Wilbur’s still got it.</p><p>When the butterfly atop Wilbur’s finger finally flutters away, Wilbur steadies himself to finally talk about the subject that hung heavy over his heart.</p><p>“Tommy,” he begins, his voice as gentle as possible.</p><p>Tommy hums, a faint smile still on his face as the butterfly on his finger flies off as well, “What is it?”</p><p>His voice sounds terrible. Tommy’s throat must be really messed up.</p><p>“I didn’t…” Wilbur starts, frowning at himself, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”</p><p>Tommy doesn’t make any eye contact with Wilbur. Instead, he stares out at the vast fields, his gaze pinned to the small flower patches there. Wilbur manages to catch the way Tommy averts his gaze when a strip of poppies passes into view.</p><p>“When I kept the truth from you—” Wilbur continues, his voice cracking a bit, “I didn’t do it because I thought you didn’t deserve to know. I did it to keep you from worrying.”</p><p>“Worrying?” Tommy mutters, “I thought you lot were going to kill me. I think I worried quite a bit,” there is no bite to his tone, his voice completely level, as if he were stating a simple fact.</p><p>Wilbur blinks his eyes closed, “Tommy…”</p><p>“I’m sorry for that, by the way,” Tommy suddenly says. Wilbur falls silent for a moment as the boy continues, “I know I shouldn’t have thought like that. I just didn’t know if—” Tommy’s carefully constructed façade breaks, his lip quivering.</p><p>“I-I didn’t know if you guys even wanted me alive,” Tommy sobs a bit, a tear falling down his face. Wilbur doesn’t waste another second as he embraces the boy. The sensation is numb to Wilbur, but a feeling of warmth encompasses him nonetheless.</p><p> “Of course we wanted you fucking alive,” Wilbur whispers, tears threatening to burst from his eyes as well, “And don’t you dare fucking apologize. If anyone should be saying sorry, it should be me.”</p><p>“Not right now,” Tommy pleads, burying his head into Wilbur’s shoulder. From this close, the poppy petals tickle Wilbur’s cheek, “I don’t want to think about what you said and didn’t say. I don’t wanna think about anything. Let’s just stay like this.”</p><p>Wilbur draws Tommy even closer, tears finally spilling onto his cheeks, “Okay, Tommy,” he acquiesces, rubbing circles onto his brother’s back.</p><p>They stay like that, so engrossed in each other’s embrace that they don’t even notice when minutes later, the cart slows to a stop.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Techno wanted to forgive.</p><p>That wish had slung itself over him since last night, after seeing Tommy writhe in pain and cry from how hard he believed that his own family wanted to kill him. It hangs over Technoblade right now, as he hears Wilbur and Tommy share whispered words of apology to each other at the back of the horse cart.</p><p>Techno wishes it were that easy to repair the damage between him and the kid.</p><p>Techno could only stay cold and angry for so long. It was easy to hate Tommy. Easy to remember all the wrongdoings laid in between them. It was harder to remember that Tommy was still a kid that made mistakes. It was harder to forgive.</p><p>
  <em>Techno, look. Look at them.</em>
</p><p>The voices whisper to him, the sudden noise making Techno jump a bit. As always, the voices were taunting him. Techno was already looking. He can see the way Tommy, Wilbur and Phil had already begun walking the path towards forgiveness. Techno was the only one left behind, refusing to fall into step with them. Refusing to fix things.</p><p>
  <em>Ahead. Watch out. They’re here.</em>
</p><p>Techno’s brows furrow. He had no idea what the voices were talking about. Then again, the voices usually only spat out gibberish. Simple phrases and little words that were mostly indecipherable. Technoblade remembers a time when he hadn’t been plagued by the voices. Remembers the clarity of mind he used to possess.</p><p>It had all gone downhill on that night. When Phil made a single bad choice. When the old man’s past finally caught up with him, and his children were caught in the crossfire. It was horrible.</p><p><em>Not now. Stupid. You’re stupid. Focus. </em>The voices chime, their anger roaring through the recesses of Techno’s head. Prime, they were feisty today.</p><p>
  <em>Look up. Ahead. Look.</em>
</p><p>Techno decides to entertain them, bringing his head up and shooting a glance towards the treetops. There was nothing, of course.</p><p>“There. You guys happy?” he says under his breath. Next to him, Phil removes his gaze from the compass in his hand.</p><p>“Are the voices back?” Phil asks, sending Techno a strange look. The type of look Phil used to send him when Techno would climb into his bed from a nightmare, all those years ago.</p><p>Techno nods, “Yeah. They’re being weird.”</p><p>
  <em>Wrong way. Left. </em>
</p><p>Techno sighs and turns his head to the left, ready to survey the terrain with a bored stare. The moment he does so however, his blood runs cold.</p><p>“Phil,” he whispers, keeping his voice carefully low. Phil immediately looks over the piglin’s shoulders, the man’s wings bristling when he catches sight of what Techno had seen.</p><p>A pillager patrol, loitering about on the field adjacent to them. As if sensing Phil and Techno’s gaze, the patrol captain looks up and locks eyes with them.</p><p>“Ah, fuck,” Techno mutters, raising his hands to snap the reins. He’s halted in his movements when an arrow zips past his front, severing the reins in two. Carl rears from shock, neighing nervously. The cart comes to a stop, a bead of sweat beginning to form on Techno’s forehead as the pillagers run towards them.</p><p>“What’s happening?” Wilbur calls, his arms around Tommy. His question is answered the moment it leaves his mouth as the patrol leader finally reaches them, swinging an axe down onto the wheel of the horse cart, severing the wooden wheel in half. Techno flinches. They’re trapped now.</p><p>Techno jumps out the front seat as Philza takes off into the air.</p><p>“Keep ‘em safe. I’ll be back,” Phil says as he flies off, his elytrian wings sending him towards the sky. Techno nods, even though the man was already gone. Phil had a plan. He always had a plan.</p><p>Brandishing his netherite sword, Techno runs towards the leader, aiming for the chest. The patrol leader ducks, his hand grazing the soil beneath them. Cupping the dirt in his hand, the leader sends it flying into Techno’s eyes. Technoblade closes his eyes on instinct, jumping back as far as he can.</p><p>“<em>Wilbur!</em>” Tommy’s ragged voice echoes past Techno, and the piglin forces his eyes open.</p><p>Tommy is being dragged off by one of the patrol members, the man pushing the end of a crossbow onto Tommy’s temple. Wilbur is next to him, struggling to remove the boy from the pillager’s grip, his ghostly hands struggling to rip Tommy away from the other man’s hold.</p><p>Techno tries reach them, but trips onto the ground when something heavy is banged against his head. Looking up, Techno sees the leader again, a victorious smile upon his face, the man gripping the handle of his banner. Techno snarls at him, kicking at the patrol leader’s legs, sending the man down as well.</p><p>Techno rises up with a defiant huff and, tightening his hold on his sword, stabs the blade deep into the pillager’s chest. The leader coughs at the sudden impact, blood spattering out of his mouth as Techno leaves him there, his sword sliding out of the man’s chest like butter.</p><p>He searches desperately for Tommy and Wilbur, and finds the two of them a little ways-off from the cart, Wilbur still trying with all of his might to pry Tommy away from the pillager. The pillager attempts to escape from the ghost, waving his crossbow around to keep Wilbur away. Tommy is still screeching, calling for anyone to save him.</p><p>Just as Techno prepares to bolt towards the two, a figure emerges from the skies, diving down towards the earth with alarming speed. It’s Philza, the man pulling Tommy away from the pillager in one graceful glide. Tommy is shaking, and Techno tries not to gasp when he sees that the entire left side of the boy’s face was now covered in flowers.</p><p>Wilbur follows Phil, floating near Tommy as he whispers words of comfort to the poor kid. An arrow flies past Phil, the man just narrowly avoiding it. Phil leads them to the forest, the four of them attempting to hide between the trees to buy some time away from the pillagers.</p><p>“Take him,” Phil orders when he reaches Techno. Techno nods, taking Tommy’s trembling frame into his arms. It is only then that Techno notices the large leather bag slung over Phil’s shoulder.</p><p>He slips the bag off and hands it to Techno, “Take this, too.”</p><p>Techno grabs hold of it. It’s extremely heavy, but nothing he can’t handle. Techno peers inside the bag, searching for the contents. There were large obsidian blocks, their purplish-black surface emanating the faint energy of magic.</p><p>“Obsidian? What do we do with this?” Wilbur asks as Phil leads them to Carl, who was braying nervously next to the destroyed cart.</p><p>“I need you to build a portal,” Phil announces, “Fast travel through the Nether. I’ll deal with these guys.”</p><p>“What? Phil, you can’t possibly take on all these guys by yourself. You’re on your last life—” Techno begins, but is cut off by Phil’s firm grip on his hand. The man forces Techno’s fingers around the enchanted compass, it’s needle still pointing adamantly to the north.</p><p>“So is Tommy,” Phil replies, his voice grave and desperate. It’s enough to keep Techno quiet.</p><p>“Once you’re in the Nether, get as far away as you can and make another portal,” Phil continues, brushing a finger through a fringe of Tommy’s hair. Tommy looks taken aback.</p><p>“Go back to the Overworld, and use the compass from there to find our home,” Phil finishes, “I’ll catch up with you guys. I know the way.”</p><p>The four of them are quiet for a moment as Phil slips off his netherite chest plate and forces it onto Tommy.</p><p>“Phil?” Tommy asks, his voice almost completely gone. The poppies are atrocious, their red blinding Techno’s eyes. Phil looks at the boy, waiting for him to continue as the man fastens the chest plate.</p><p>“Don’t you fucking die on me,” the kid affirms. At this, Phil smiles.</p><p>“As long as you do the same,” Phil replies, sharing a long glance with Tommy.</p><p>There are shouts from the distance, the voices of the pillagers getting dangerously close to them.</p><p>“Go,” is all Phil says, his wings raising from the ground. With one final look towards his three children, he takes off.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wow this fanfic is basically a pipe dream at this point when compared to the canon. After what happened to Tommy in the latest stream I don't think the SBI dynamic is gonna thrive anymore HAHAHAH</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. we were born to die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>they reach their home.<br/>chap title: Battle Cry by The Family Crest<br/>Warning: phil's part has a rather bloody fight scene</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>get ready for a rollercoaster, gang.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Why do they call you the Angel of Death?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil looked at him strange, then. Tommy couldn’t name it. His father appeared sad, guilty, and confused, all at the same time. The trees surrounding their house bow against the strong wind, their boughs shaking as leaves trembled onto the ground. It was nearing the season of fall.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Where did you hear that?” Phil asked, sitting next to Tommy on their little porch. It overlooked the farm, potato sprouts, stems of tomato, and fat pumpkins nearly bursting out from the soil. Phil’s hands were still dusted with dirt from his work on the farm, his fingers twisting about anxiously as he rung his hands together.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tommy tensed a bit. He wondered if he was in trouble, “There was a man here, the other day. He called you that.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil straightened, pulling Tommy closer. Tommy was still nine at the time, and he fit perfectly next to his father’s side.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What man.” Phil didn’t sound like he was asking a question. His dark tone made Tommy scared. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tommy swallowed, “Are you mad at me?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Answer the question, Tommy. What man?” Phil stood up again, shoving Tommy off of him as he made his way down the front steps of their house. The man glanced at the woods, staring at something far-off. He was unnerved, fidgeting almost.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He had white eyes,” Tommy started, trying to keep his voice from trembling, “Brown hair. He seemed nice.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil cursed under his breath, his wings anxiously grazing the ground, “He knew me? Did he say my name?” Phil began to pace, walking back and forth in a straight line. Tommy began to regret even posing his question in the first place.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He called you the Angel of Death,” Tommy snapped. Phil kept answering his questions with more questions, and he wasn’t going to let him get away with that, “Why did he call you that?” he reiterated, frowning up at the man.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His father glanced down at him, and Tommy could almost hear him thinking, the cogs of thought in the man’s mind turning as he searched for a response. Finally, Phil sighed and sat back down, settling next to his son with a grunt.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I guess I would have had to tell you this story one day,” Phil said, laughing a bit as Tommy leaned in closer to listen, “The gods gave me that name. They gave me these wings, too.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tommy’s mouth hung open in amazement, “You spoke with the gods?” he whispered, his voice dripping with wonder. Phil nodded, his face turning solemn for a moment.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The gods had heard about me. Knew that I used to be a pretty good soldier. A warrior,” Phil inattentively grasped Tommy’s hand, his larger hands cupping Tommy’s much littler ones, “They wanted me to kill another god,” he whispered, like it was a deep secret. Tommy supposed it probably was.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tommy doesn’t even attempt to hold back a surprised gasp. For the first time in Tommy’s life, he noticed how old Phil looked. The man is almost frail, ready to collapse from the weight of a life he had barely shared with his sons. Tommy wonders if Wilbur knew about this.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“His name was Herobrine,” Phil continued, shuddering as the words leave his lips.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Did you fight him?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Years. I spent years at war with him,” Phil was shaking then, and Tommy didn’t know what to do, “And I killed him. I swear, I killed him. But now he’s back and—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Dad?” Tommy called. He rarely called Phil that. His father froze, and he looked so tired that Tommy’s young mind could barely comprehend seeing him like that.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’ve… finished this. He can’t be back. Not now. Not when I have…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil stared at Tommy, and ran a hand through the boy’s hair. It’s not comforting, like it usually was. It felt like a goodbye.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Tell me if he ever comes back, Tommy.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I will,” Tommy promised, and he keeps it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He keeps it even years later, when both him and Phil had already forgotten about the conversation. He keeps it, until one night— the man called Herobrine shows up to their door once again.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Tommy is finding it hard to stay awake.</p><p>The heat is prickling against his skin, and he’s assured that the joints of his shoulders are chafed from the edges of the netherite armor Phil forced him to don. The chest plate is too large on him, and the netherite surface seemingly absorbs more heat onto Tommy.</p><p>Sweat is forming on his neck. It’s disgusting. The hotness slips into the cracks between the flowers on his face, trapping the warmth there until it’s unbearable. Tommy’s shirt is damp now, and he raises a hand to wipe the sweat away from his brow.</p><p>“Keep still, Tommy,” Technoblade orders.</p><p>Tommy clears his throat, “W-Where… are we?”</p><p>“The Nether,” Wilbur replies instead, and Tommy becomes even more aware of the sweltering climate. No wonder it was so hot. Wilbur’s hand rests against his forehead, carefully keeping his fingers away from the flowers, and Tommy leans into the cool touch.</p><p>Deciding to finally opens his eyes, Tommy is blinded by the sudden light of the Nether, “It’s hot,” he announces, attempting to sit up as he rubs the light spots out of his eyes.</p><p>Techno pushes him back down, “I said to keep still. You’re gonna fall down the horse,” the piglin scolds, his voice lacking the usual fervor. Tommy scowls at Technoblade as his eyes finally adjust to the light. He’s on Carl’s back, as Techno had stated.</p><p>Tommy was on the front, Techno’s arms surrounding his lanky frame from each side as the man gripped onto Carl’s long mane. The reins were hanging down limply from Carl’s face, still rendered useless from when the pillager from earlier had snapped it into two pieces.</p><p>“Aren’t we far enough?” Wilbur asks, appearing next to the horse. They were moving rather fast, Carl’s hooves kicking against the Nether Waste’s rocky ground, “We should get out of here already,” Wilbur finishes.</p><p>Techno shakes his head, “Not yet. Maybe after three more miles.”</p><p>The heat was really getting to Tommy. He feels dizzy. Weightless, almost. Tommy’s body sags, and his sitting position on Carl begins to shift.</p><p>“Fuck, Tommy— what did I say about keeping <em>still?</em>” Techno snaps, looking down at the boy in-between his arms. The piglin goes quiet as he locks eyes with him.</p><p>“Sorry. Sorry… I—” Tommy begins, but is halted by another wave of nausea. He feels like retching, “I feel really shit right now.”</p><p>“It’s probably from the flowers,” Wilbur explains, drawing himself closer to Tommy. Tommy reaches his arms to the specter. Wilbur’s cold skin felt nice.</p><p>“Just hold on a little longer, Tommy,” Techno says, his words accented when Carl suddenly comes to a stop, “What the hell? Carl, what’s—” Techno’s sentence is cut short when a projectile of pure flame comes soaring past the horse.</p><p>Tommy turns his head, and finds a ghast, the large creature slowly making its way towards them with its eerie eyes closed.</p><p>“Shit. Shit. Shit,” Technoblade chants, clicking his tongue to get Carl moving again. Carl understood Techno well enough as the horse began galloping forward, picking up speed as another fireball escapes the ghast’s mouth.</p><p>Techno pushes at Tommy’s head, “Keep your head down,” he instructs, his hand hovering over Tommy’s head protectively. Tommy flinches, the arrow wound on his leg beginning to throb. He spares the wound a panicked look, and finds the bandages bloodier than usual. The stitches had probably torn. No wonder he had felt so dizzy.</p><p>“Techno, my—” Tommy almost doesn’t want to tell the piglin. Techno already seemed preoccupied enough, as the man kept his head carefully low, hoping to lose the ghast.</p><p>A fireball narrowly misses Carl’s side, making the horse buck up in shock.</p><p>“Fuck!” Techno swears as Carl rears up on his hind legs. Techno loses his balance, falling off the horse’s back with a grunt. Tommy tumbles down as well, his head banging against the warm stony earth. Hands are on Tommy immediately, helping him up to a sitting position.</p><p>“Tommy, are you alright?” Wilbur exclaims, terror overtaking his features when he sees Tommy’s bandages dripping with blood, “Oh, Prime. Your stitches— <em>Look out!”</em> Wilbur yells, using all of his strength to push Tommy back down as the ghast spits another flaming ball at them.</p><p>Tommy felt so hot. Were they near a pool of lava? His body was getting feverish, and he didn’t know if it was from the Nether or the flowers or the fucking wound. Probably all three.</p><p>Techno finally pushes himself up from the ground, heaving as he stands back up. Tommy stares up at the piglin’s frame, Techno lowering himself down into a fighting stance. His hand dances around the hilt of his sword.</p><p>Tommy had nearly forgotten what it was like to be protected by Techno. This was like that time Dream found them, after Tommy had left Logstedshire behind, and Techno had stepped in and said, in a voice that carried so much power and strength, <em>“He’s with me.”</em></p><p>It was as if the piglin was saying that again as Techno waited and beckoned the ghast closer. Tommy couldn’t tear his eyes away, even when his vision began to blur and Wilbur started shrieking at him about blood loss. Tommy couldn’t care less.</p><p>He was entranced as Techno stalked forward, patient like a lion ready to pounce as the ghast took one shuddering breath. Techno breathed in at the same time, his grip on his sword getting tighter. The ghast’s eyes glowed red as another fireball was spat out of its mouth.</p><p>Tommy counted the seconds, the fireball hurdling towards them. <em>One. Two. Three—</em></p><p>With a heavy thwack, Techno swung his sword, the fireball now only inches away from him. The fireball bounds off the edge of his sword, travelling the opposite direction, right back at the ghast itself. The ghast dies with a high-pitched cry, its own flame consuming its body as if it were made of cotton.</p><p>A chorus of pig snorts suddenly rings from their left, and the three of them turn to find a hoard of zombified piglins making their way towards them. They were no doubt drawn by the ghast’s noise.</p><p>“Tommy?” Techno inquires, paying the dead piglins no mind as he turns back to look at the boy. Tommy doesn’t reply. He doesn’t think he can speak. He only looks back down at his leg, the terrain underneath covered in blood. Prime, that was a lot of blood.</p><p>“Fuck,” Techno repeats, as he follows Tommy’s line of sight.</p><p>The world is a blur as Techno leads Carl back to them, Wilbur coddling Tommy with shaky hands and worried eyes. Tommy couldn’t tell what his brother was saying to him. He sounded like he was under water. Tommy could see the tears, though. They etched lines on Wilbur’s face. Tommy instinctively wipes at the tears with a hand as Techno lifts him back onto the horse, and he feels Wilbur crumble.</p><p>He’s back on the horse now. Carl’s galloping is like a gentle cradle; <em>up and down, up and down. </em>Tommy feels sleepy, the heat of the Nether no longer as annoying as it once was. Technoblade is holding him close, and Tommy can’t help but bury his head deeper into Techno’s frame. He can feel warm blood drawing a line down his leg.</p><p>This is possibly Tommy’s last chance to relish in Techno’s comforting presence. Tommy’s sweating, but it doesn’t stop him from pressing his small frame against Techno. He feels numb. This is probably how Wilbur felt every day. The zombified piglins follow them, quick on their feet as they attempt to catch up to Carl.</p><p>“Stay with us, Tommy. Please— stay with us,” Wilbur pleads from somewhere. From where he is, Tommy can’t see him, and Tommy doesn’t have enough strength to sit up and look for him. The heavy snorts of the piglins are getting closer.</p><p>“Techno…” Tommy calls. His lips feel heavy. He can barely form the words.</p><p>Techno looks at him. He’s crying. Tommy hasn’t seen him cry in a very long time. The last time was probably when Techno destroyed Manberg. It was when the two of them were arguing, blaming each other and crying about how the other had betrayed them. That all seemed so long ago, now.</p><p>“What is it, Tommy?” Technoblade whispers.</p><p>Tommy thinks carefully. His last words should be used wisely.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Techno. For everything.”</p><p>A beat of silence. Techno laughs, despite the tears making their way down his face, “Tommy. You’ve already apologized to me.”</p><p>Tommy’s head lolls to the side, his eyes glazed, “You didn’t believe me that time.”</p><p>“I did, I did,” Techno begs.</p><p>Tommy laughs bitterly as he succumbs to sleep, “Liar.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Phil was used to fighting.</p><p>Take a step to the left. His sword, at his right. A movement of the arm. It was like a dance, the cries of war his music, and the practiced art of combat his variations. His wings take him to the air, the wind going still beneath him as he surveys his enemies.</p><p>Two were dead. Three remained. Philza will kill them all.</p><p>He dives back down, his wings folding onto his back. Air slices through his cheeks, sharp as he falls to the ground. Phil readies his sword, soaring towards one of the pillagers. He aims for the chest, dismayed when the other man parries his sword. Phil is preparing another strike when an arrow flies past his shoulder, nipping at the side of his ear.</p><p>Ignoring the wound, Phil ducks down to avoid another arrow shot his way. It nearly gets him in the ribs. Perhaps this would be easier if he had some armor. He’d given his only set to Tommy, and no doubt the pillagers had already raided the remaining supplies within their horse cart.  </p><p>Phil spreads his wings out, pausing for a moment before beating them. The movement of his wings causes the dirt around him to scatter into the air, blinding the pillager in front of him. As the man stumbles back, Phil seizes his chance and swings his sword at the pillager’s ankle. With a strained yell, the pillager tumbles onto the ground, his left ankle bleeding heavily.</p><p>Blood spatters onto Philza’s face as he draws himself closer, digging his netherite sword into the pillager’s chest.</p><p>Phil snaps his head towards the sound of an arrow being nocked. The second pillager is loading another arrow into his crossbow, pulling the string back as he takes aim. Phil glares. The man shoots. With a flick of his hand, Phil’s sword slices the arrow in-air before it can reach him.</p><p>The pillager turns pale at the sight. Phil smiles. He hasn’t fought like this in a long time. Even when he had destroyed L’manberg, that barely constituted as a fight. This one, with blood staining his sword and his chest getting winded— <em>this</em> was a real fight.</p><p>Hands shaking, the pillager attempts to nock another arrow. Phil doesn’t let him as he runs to the man, stealing the crossbow from the pillager’s grip. The pillager doesn’t even attempt to fight his grasp. The man is terrified, tripping over his own feet as Phil snaps the crossbow into two with his bare hands, the wood sending splinters into his palms, but Phil doesn’t care. Phil raises his sword up high, ready to stab into the man’s neck.</p><p>He shows no mercy when he does so. Four were dead. One remains.</p><p>Phil turns and looks at the expanse of the field they had promptly bestowed as their battleground. He sees bodies, yes; but no other man is alive. Phil quirks a brow. Maybe the last pillager had escaped, willing to sacrifice his comrades and leave with his life.</p><p>Phil decides this to be the most likely answer, and with a tired exhale leaving him, begins to make his way into the forest. He recalls the location of their home; the compass having brought them to a forest close enough to their house that the grounds had begun to look familiar. Phil is sure that he’ll be able to reach the house in a few hours’ time. He’d see his children again soon.  </p><p>All of a sudden, a clink of glass echoes through the wood.</p><p>Phil lowers down into a crouch on instinct, hiding himself behind a tree. Perhaps that final pillager hadn’t left after all. Being careful to shroud himself among the bushes, Phil slowly makes his way deeper into the forest, listening as another rattle of glass resounds from somewhere farther off.</p><p>He sees their horse cart, abandoned. Amongst it is the last pillager, the man shaking one of their leather sacks. Glass health potions tumble out of the bag, crashing onto the dirt, the glass shattering. The liquid seeps into the grass, and for a moment the tufts and weeds look a tad bit fresher than usual.</p><p>The pillager stares at the now empty bag, tossing it to the side to begin another search through their supplies. Spotting an iron helmet, the man stuffs it below his arm with a satisfied huff. Phil feels anger swell from within him upon seeing the scene. For some odd reason, seeing that pillager dump all of Tommy’s health potions into the earth below made Philza feel furious.</p><p>Without any more preamble, Phil removes himself from the bushes, and slits the pillager’s throat before he can destroy any more health potions. Blood covers Phil’s hands. The body slumps to the ground, and Phil doesn’t even glance at it as he begins trekking into the woods again.</p><p>He isn’t even phased as the body of the pillager vanishes in a cloud of smoke. There was no doubt that those pillagers had set a respawn bed. Phil would need to hurry; he didn’t want these guys finding him again. They’d only serve to waste his time.</p><p>Phil had only one thing on his mind, and that was seeing Tommy again. Speaking to him. Even if the kid were to hate him, even if he would never forgive Phil for all the things he had done, Philza still wants to see him. Wants to see Tommy without those infuriating poppies. Wants to see Tommy without that damn Flower Head obscuring half his face. Wants to see him alive.</p><p>Prime, he wanted to see him alive.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“He’s not waking up, Techno. He’s not fucking—”</p><p>“I get it, Wilbur! Now shut up, I need to concentrate.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>fuck you!” </em>Wilbur shrieks.</p><p>He knows it’s not fair. Wilbur knows that it wasn’t Techno’s fault, but he couldn’t help the urge that grew within him, the urge to just blame and hate. But he had to stay calm. He had to remain impassive, even though Tommy is currently hanging limply in his arms, refusing to awaken.</p><p>Techno was a few steps ahead of them, building another Nether portal with their remaining obsidian. The piglin is covered in rotting blood as black as the obsidian in his hands, from when he had slayed those zombified piglins. It smells putrid. Wilbur begins to wish that he had lost his sense of smell upon turning into a ghost.</p><p>The piglin’s hands are trembling, and Wilbur feels terribly guilty for yelling at him. Wilbur holds back an apology though, knowing that Technoblade would just ignore him. He instead looks down at the boy in his arms, where an unconscious Tommy was slumped onto him, the both of them sitting atop Carl’s back.</p><p>With a frown, Wilbur tries to shake him awake again. Grabbing hold of Tommy’s shoulders, Wilbur jostles him back and forth, praying to Prime for the boy to wake up. As with his previous attempts, Tommy simply continues sleeping. Wilbur swallows down a lump forming in his throat.</p><p>He wonders what Tommy is dreaming about.</p><p>Wilbur’s attention is drawn back to Techno when the piglin lets out a victorious yell, the obsidian structure before them lighting up in purplish hues of enchantment. Wilbur leaves Carl’s back as Techno makes his way back, straddling the horse and keeping Tommy carefully positioned between his arms. Techno gives the sleeping boy a long stare.</p><p>“He… still hasn’t woken up?” Techno asks, even though Tommy was sat in front of him, asleep. Wilbur shakes his head in response, if only to offer Techno something rather than nothing. With a huff, Techno clicks his heels against Carl’s sides, the horse beginning to bound towards the Nether portal.</p><p>The moment they pass through the portal and finally enter the Overworld again, Tommy begins to shriek.</p><p>“<em>No!</em> No— <em>please!</em>” Tommy yells, making both Techno and Wilbur jump a bit. The woods surrounding them looks more familiar, now. Wilbur is sure that they’re awfully close to their old home.</p><p>Wilbur grabs hold of Tommy’s shoulders, “Tommy? Tommy, you’re alright, were—”</p><p>He can barely speak when Tommy pushes him away, his deafening cries making the nearby birds flutter off in surprise. Techno frowns, trying to remain focused as he steers Carl through the forest. Tommy’s eyes snap open, his pupils shrinking as he stares at the groves of trees.</p><p>“Not here. Oh, Prime, we’re here—” Tommy stutters, looking half-awake and half-asleep. Wilbur struggles to keep up with Carl’s fast pace, Techno no doubt wanting to reach the house even sooner now that Tommy was struggling in his arms.</p><p>“Tommy. Look at me, okay?” Wilbur tries to keep himself within Tommy’s line of sight, even though the boy absolutely refuses to meet his gaze, “Breathe with me. One, two—”</p><p>“That’s- That’s where I m-met Tubbo,” Tommy stammers, not paying Wilbur any mind as he points at some obscure, hidden part of the woods. Wilbur can barely speak anything in response when Tommy shudders, a flower growing dangerously close to his left eye’s caruncle.</p><p>“Oh, fuck,” Techno mutters, tightening his grip on Carl’s mane, clicking his tongue to make the horse gallop even faster.</p><p>Tommy gasps at the sensation, his breath leaving him in short puffs. <em>He’s hyperventilating</em>, Wilbur’s mind supplies. And there’s that feeling again, that sinkhole growing and growing in the afterlife, preparing for when Tommy dies.</p><p>“Shit. Shit. It fucking hurts, Will,” Tommy sobs, blood dripping out from where the new flower had grown, “It all looks so familiar. It’s all—”</p><p>Wilbur shushes him, and the specter curses the fact that he’s transparent. If he were opaquer, then he could shield Tommy’s view of the forest. Wilbur opts to just embrace his brother, hoping that the touch is able to help calm the poor kid down.</p><p>“Just count and breathe with me,” Wilbur says, his chest rising in an inhale, coaxing Tommy to do the same. They stay like that for a few moments, breathing in one another’s hold, as Techno quietly kept his gaze forward, directing Carl through the understory.</p><p>“I-I’m… tired, Wilbur,” Tommy mutters after a while, when his breathing had finally calmed down, “I’m— I think I’m gonna close my eyes for a bit.”</p><p>Wilbur snaps his head up when those words leave Tommy’s mouth. He can’t let him succumb to sleep. Not after earlier, when Tommy wouldn’t wake up. Coupled with Tommy’s torn stitches and the flowers, it was too risky to let Tommy fall asleep.</p><p>Wilbur wouldn’t be able to bare it if the boy would never wake up.</p><p>“No, no, no. Stay awake with me, Tommy,” Wilbur says, gently shaking Tommy’s shoulders. Tommy looks dazed, barely awake as he stares at Wilbur, “Don’t fall asleep, you hear me?”</p><p>“I didn’t say I was going to sleep,” Tommy argues softly. Wilbur almost laughs. Even in the direst of situations, Tommy still had enough fire in him to offer a quick retort.</p><p>“Just… we’re almost at the house, okay?” Wilbur replies, gazing at the forest around them as the ground changes from tall stalks of overgrown grass to the dirt path that he remembered Phil digging when they first began living there. The sight of it makes Wilbur sigh wistfully, “Don’t fall asleep before we get there.”</p><p>He’s met by silence.</p><p>Wilbur fearfully looks up at Tommy, worried that the boy had fallen asleep. Instead, he sees Tommy staring at something at the edge of the horizon, his mouth open in shock, and his eyes watery. Wilbur follows his gaze apprehensively, going still as he makes out the figure of something so painfully familiar at the edge of a tall hill.</p><p>“We’re here,” Techno announces in the smallest of whispers.</p><p>The home of their childhood stands tall, welcoming the three wayward children.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Techno stares at the home’s chipped yellow bricks. The abandoned bee farm, a section of it broken apart as the glass had inevitably been broken apart by the elements. The farm was overgrown, weeds and wildflowers growing fruitfully atop the soil that had once born large vegetables and root crops of all kinds.</p><p>His eyes begin to water, but Technoblade refuses to cry. He had already cried once, today. He wasn’t going to do that again.</p><p>The moment is ruined by Tommy, as always.</p><p>“<em>Fuck!</em> Fuck this— <em>No, no no—”</em> Tommy shrieks, jumping off Carl’s back, bolting off towards the small silhouette of the Nether portal a little ways-off from them.</p><p>“Tommy!” Wilbur calls, materializing next to the boy. Tommy doesn’t get far before falling over, his bleeding wound tearing further. The kid groans, pushing himself up from the ground defiantly to continue staggering towards the portal. Techno doesn’t let him get even a few inches farther before leaping off Carl and picking Tommy up in his arms.</p><p>“No! I-I can’t—” Tommy pleads, trying to escape from Techno’s grasp. Techno doesn’t even look at him as he begins to run towards their home, getting closer and closer to the structure.</p><p>“Techno, <em>Techno! No!</em>” Tommy shrieks, helplessly pushing against Techno’s arms. Techno flinches a bit at his loud voice, “It’s too much— I don’t want to see it again. Please, I don’t want to see it—” Tommy continues, his frame trembling. Sobs wrack Tommy’s face, and Techno grimaces when he sees the way the tears catch against the poppies’ petals like little droplets of dew.</p><p>“What is it, Tommy?” Techno asks. He stops in his step, in front of the porch. He knows it’s stupid, knows that Tommy’s probably just speaking through feverish confusion. But Tommy’s crying so much, and the way he’s shaking in Techno’s arms just makes the piglin want to stop dead in his tracks and listen to the boy.</p><p> “What’s wrong? We’re finally here, we can fix—” Wilbur begins, but is interrupted by Tommy’s quiet snivels.</p><p>“I…I just…” Tommy begins, pausing for a moment as he is interrupted by a long bout of coughs and hiccups, “I don’t want this to end.”</p><p><em>“What?”</em> Techno and Wilbur ask at the same time.</p><p>“I-I don’t…” Tommy’s eyes are squeezed shut, the boy trying his best to keep more tears from falling, “If I’m healed, will you guys…leave me again?”</p><p>Techno and Wilbur stay silent. They implore for him to continue.</p><p>Tommy can barely speak through the whimpers and sobs leaving his throat, “I-I-I just don’t want us going b-back to ignoring each other. Hate— Hating each other. S-So please, can we—”</p><p>He’s cut off by a wretched cry, erupting into a loud shriek when a flower begins to blossom from his left eye. The flower pushes through his sclera, and Tommy’s screams are bone-chilling, voice scratchy and full of pain as the flower pushes past his corneas and sends a stream of blood down his cheeks, like bloody tears.</p><p>Technoblade goes pale at the sight. Wasting no more time, he trudges to the house. He tries not to shake when he steps onto the porch, the house looking much smaller than it seemed to look like in his memories. He draws the front door open, the barren kitchen and dining table greeting him.</p><p>Tommy is still screaming, his hands reaching out for something. Wilbur grabs them as Techno sets the kid down on the floor.</p><p>“It hurts. I-I can’t see. <em>I can’t see,”</em> Tommy cries, his hand coming up to touch the newly sprouted flower on his left eye, “I’m gonna go fucking blind. I’m going to suffocate<em>. I’m going to die—”</em></p><p>“No, you’re not!” Wilbur yells. Techno can hear the apprehension evident in his tone. The ghost sounds like he’s praying, like he’s pleading for someone to come and save his poor brother. Tommy’s remaining eye glazes over. He looks like he’s about to pass out.</p><p>“We’re here! We’re already here— why isn’t he getting healed?” Techno exclaims frustratedly, more to himself than anyone else. He hasn’t yelled like this in a long time. Tears are beginning to swell in his eyes again. He curses as he kneels down next to Tommy.</p><p>Tommy cries out as another flower grows from the bottom of his left eye. It’s horribly close to his nose. <em>He’s going to suffocate. He’s going to suffocate. He’s going to die. </em>Someone chants from within Techno’s mind. But it doesn’t come from the voices. Because the voice sounds suspiciously like his own.</p><p>“Tommy. Please, don’t…” Wilbur pleads. Techno doesn’t know what to do, his hands simply hovering over Tommy’s writhing frame. Doesn’t know how to comfort him, doesn’t know how to fix this, doesn’t know how to make Tommy stay <em>alive—</em></p><p>“Don’t…” Tommy starts, shuddering through a sob. Techno is crying again, and he makes no move to conceal it, “Don’t… leave me,”</p><p>“Don’t die, Tommy. Don’t die on us,” Wilbur begs, tears going down his face like acid. Techno remembers how ghosts burn when water touches them. Tommy doesn’t say anything, only serving to convulse a bit when another flower blooms from his left eye’s tear duct. Blood drops onto the dusty wooden floor.</p><p>“Phil?” Tommy calls, staring at the ajar front door. Techno and Wilbur turn around.</p><p>There is no one there.</p><p>“Phil’s gonna be here soon,” Wilbur reassures, trying for a smile even though the edges of his mouth desperately want to point towards the south, “He’ll be here soon.”</p><p>Tommy blinks his eyes closed, and Wilbur doesn’t even stop him anymore. His left eyelid doesn’t close all the way, the flower adamantly keeping his bloodied and blinded eye in view. Techno doesn’t catch the sound of large, strong wings beating outside the door.</p><p>Techno takes a shuddering inhale, anger and confusion and sorrow swirling through him, “Tommy.”</p><p>He has nothing to say. Nothing that will properly convey his feelings in such a short amount of time.</p><p>“Dream?” Tommy whispers to the ceiling as he succumbs to the cold, dead.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hehe cliffhanger go brrrrrr<br/>we're in the home stretch now.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. the answer is clear, oh now that we're here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A family is faced with the end.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>get ready, gang. this one's crazyy long</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Their peace is interrupted with a knock at the door.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Could you get that, Will?” Phil asked. He wasn’t paying attention. Of course he wasn’t. He was too busy mending a hole in one of Tommy’s shirts, caused by one of his sparring matches with Techno. And even though Phil had scolded him to be more careful, Tommy was currently outside, tussling with Techno near the back of the house, in their so-called ‘training grounds’.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There was a creak as Wilbur drew the door open.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hello, little boy,” a voice called.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil froze, his hold on Tommy’s shirt tightening. That voice. So familiar. So haunting. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Philza could recall the way that voice had whispered and cursed at him. The way that voice commanded at the unrelenting army of withers he had spawned. And the way that voice stretched and cracked into nothingness when Phil had killed him. He had killed him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>No, he hadn’t. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil remembered now. That small conversation with Tommy, back when Tommy was still nine. A secret made between the two of them, four years ago. Phil had already forgotten about it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hello,” Wilbur replied. He sounded in awe, “A-Are you a god?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil stood up from where he was seated in his private office. He ran towards the dining room and the kitchen, where the front door was. Phil realized when he reached the hallway that he was still holding onto Tommy’s shirt, his fingers clutched around it so tight that the cloth was straining. He promptly dropped it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A light chuckle, faked and hollow, “How can you tell?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Your eyes are all white,” Wilbur answered, not wasting a second to brag, “My friend Technoblade has eyes like yours.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil’s blood turned to ice, and he opened his mouth to yell something.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ah, yes. I’ve heard of that young man. Extremely exceptional, they say,” the voice was amused, “I’d love to meet him.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Wilbur! Get away from the door!” Phil shouted, finally reaching the front door. He swept Wilbur away with one hand, keeping the boy behind him. As he did so, Phil finally locked eyes with a face he never wanted to see again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Herobrine,” Phil announced with a tremble.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ah,” Herobrine deadpanned, “The Angel of Death arrives.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil hurdled himself at the god, regretting it immediately when he realized he didn’t have a weapon. Not even a piece of armor. Nevertheless, Phil tackled Herobrine down onto their wooden porch, his hands closing around the god’s throat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My sword, Will!” Phil ordered, his fear growing as Herobrine remained carefully still underneath his weight. The man was planning something. A short moment later, an enchanted, netherite sword is thrown onto the porch next to Phil. Grasping at the hilt, Phil sent the sword towards Herobrine’s throat, the exact moment the god rose a hand and took a bite out of something indiscernible.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil was astonished when his sword stabbed into the wooden planks of his porch, with Herobrine nowhere to be seen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“So, your name is Wilbur,” Herobrine said from behind Phil. When Phil got up and turned around jerkily, he saw that the god was right next to Wilbur. In his hand was a half-eaten Chorus Fruit. Herobrine leaned forward and grabbed onto Wilbur’s forearm.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The boy struggled in Herobrine’s grip, his eyes pleading as he turned to Phil and yelled, “Phil! Phil—” Herobrine clamped a hand over Wilbur’s mouth, silencing him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Keep away, if you want the mortal safe,” Herobrine calls, his face showing no emotion as Phil stops in his tracks. Herobrine’s features were steely, cold, and calculating.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil’s palms were getting sweaty, adrenaline running through his veins as he stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender, “Please. Don’t hurt him. Your fight is with me, Herobrine.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How many children live in this house, Angel?” Herobrine inquired, ignoring Phil’s words. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Only Wilbur,” Phil lied through his teeth. Herobrine hummed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Really? That shirt looks a little too small for him,” Herobrine said, directing his gaze towards Tommy’s shirt that Philza had discarded in the hallway. Fuck.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Herobrine tightened his hold on Wilbur, putting a hand on his neck, “Where are the others, Phil?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil’s mouth went dry. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Opening his mouth to respond, Phil was promptly cut off by the shattering of glass. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The window behind Herobrine had broken, and time seemingly slowed down as shards of glass cascaded down, reflecting specks of light all over the place. The god looked relatively surprised for a moment as three figures made their way through the broken window. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil ran towards Wilbur, wrestling him from Herobrine’s grasp as the god turned around and looked at the three figures that had jumped into the house.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ah. You must be Technoblade. The little god,” Herobrine mused as Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno came crashing into the dining room through the broken window, dashing towards Phil. Techno’s pale eyes widened at the god’s words, and the two of them shared a glance. Phil had caught the way Techno shuddered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t worry, Phil,” Tommy whispered, shoving something into Phil’s arms, “We’ve got you covered.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In his hands was Phil’s netherite chest plate, and Phil noticed how Techno had his trident in his grip. The piglin was lowered into a fighting stance, and though Phil was grateful, there was no way he would let these kids fight against Herobrine. Phil fastened the chest plate to himself, nodding at the boys in silent thanks.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Look at this,” Herobrine said, his eyes glancing between all of them. Tubbo pressed himself up next to Phil with a tremble. Phil automatically brought a hand to the boy’s shoulder, trying his best to comfort him, “You’ve got yourself a little family,” Herobrine continued, apathy gracing his tone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil lunged his sword at the god as Herobrine summoned an axe to parry, “Get out of here, boys!” Phil yelled.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Herobrine grinned at him darkly, the first inkling of emotion on his face since he arrived, “You’re letting them leave already? I don’t even know their names,” Phil responded with a kick to Herobrine’s chest, the god stumbling backwards.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“C’mon, you two!” Wilbur called, and Phil could see him from the corner of his eye ushering Tommy and Tubbo out of the door.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tommy wrestled himself from Wilbur’s hold, “We can’t just leave him—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Tommy,” Wilbur spat, anger and stress flaring out of him. Tommy was silent as they left the room, grabbing hold of Tubbo’s hand, the two boys sharing an anxious glance. Phil nodded to himself. At least they were safe. He was lucky that Herobrine wasn’t fighting too seriously yet.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You ruin everything,” Herobrine said, rising from the floor, “I wanted them here for the news.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Herobrine’s body began to contort as he straightened. His spine snapped, and his bones creaked. And from his white eyes pooled stark darkness, stretching across his cheeks and down his chin. Phil planted his feet firmly against the ground. He had fought the god before. He can fight him again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For his children. For their future.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The moment Herobrine stalked closer, an arrow flew through the air, straight into the god’s skull.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil tensed. His head snapped towards the source. In the middle of the hallway, nearly shrouded in shadow, was Technoblade, a crossbow in hand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Herobrine turned as well, grinning wildly at the sight, “The gods must be smiling down upon me,” he whispered, raising a hand and plucking out the arrow from his skull. The god laughed deeply as he muttered a spell to himself, enchanted smoke settling and breezing through his fingers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil rushed to the piglin, grabbing him and running through the hallway and behind a wall, “I told you to leave!” Phil hissed as Techno frowned up at him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Wilbur, Tubbo, and Tommy are safe,” Techno explained, “They got on a horse and they’re heading towards the Dream SMP.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That town Wilbur’s always goin’ on about?” Phil asked, flinching when he heard glass breaking and incantations leaving Herobrine’s mouth, his voice echoing across the halls, “Will they be safe there?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hopefully,” Techno grunted. The piglin readied his trident.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I only wish to speak with you, Angel of Death!” Herobrine called from the middle of the hallway. Phil jumped back as a vex flew at him, no doubt summoned by the god. The mob’s mouth was hung open in a silent scream, its body glowing red.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“—And that little piglin son of yours!” Herobrine continued, finally making his way towards the other two men. Behind the god’s heels were a line of fangs, the creatures peeking out from the floor and snapping their sharp teeth at Techno.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you want to know why the gods chose you, Technoblade?” Herobrine shouted, maddened spite evident in his tone, “Because they had killed me. And they needed someone to take my place.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You replaced me, piglin-filth,” he snarled, almost shaking from resentment.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil slashed at the vex flying towards him, killing it in two hits only for four more to spawn from behind Herobrine’s back. Technoblade’s back met with his as the vexes and fangs swarmed them, the blood spattering onto their floorboards.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hark, and heed my words, you old fool!” Herobrine yelled as a vex got too close and sliced through Techno’s forearm. With a wave of Herobrine’s palm, the vexes disappeared into nothingness, the only evidence of their previous presence being the blood covering the ground.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Technoblade dropped to the floor, holding back a yell as he grasped at his wounded arm. Herobrine drew himself closer to the two of them, and Phil spread his wings out, keeping Techno behind him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t hurt him,” Phil pleaded, “I’ll listen to whatever it is you need to say. But please don’t hurt him.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil knew now that Herobrine didn’t want them dead. At least, not yet, since he despawned all those vexes. Herobrine wanted them to listen.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Herobrine’s eyes squinted as he sneered, “He will be fine, Angel. In the end, it is you who will suffer.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“W-What?” Phil stuttered. He tried to ignore Techno’s hiss of pain. He wished he had a health potion on hand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Smiling at him again, Herobrine said, “I did not come here to kill you, nor your stupid children. I have something far better.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I have seen and learned many things. And for thee, I have a message,” Herobrine’s voice entered a new octave, the sing-song tone of a god, thunderous yet gentle and ethereal. A type of voice used when hymns are sung and gods read aloud holy texts. Phil tried not to tremble.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“A vision of precognition— I have seen your sons’ futures,” Herobrine cackled. Techno held back a pained sob. Phil doesn’t breathe, “Those that escaped just now shall be closely acquainted with death.” Herobrine announced. Phil shook his head. The god was lying. He had to be.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil felt tears begin to swell in his eyes. Tommy, Wilbur, and Tubbo? Acquainted with death? Questions of death and sickness and murder flashed through Phil’s head as quickly as a candle flickering.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And this piglin son—” Herobrine’s face was dripping with scorn and distaste, “Shall be plagued by voices from the unknown. Forever tormented, until death.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil forced himself to say something, anything, “W-Why… have you come to tell me this?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Herobrine smirked, so wide it almost looked painful, “A father’s heart cannot handle the pain of his children. This is your retribution, Angel of Death. This is the greatest punishment I can offer you for killing me. I have simply come to deliver this message— and do my part in eliciting destiny, of course.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Eliciting destiny? What do you—” Phil began, but stopped when the air around him suddenly went cold.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“O gods, hear me and my malediction,” and Herobrine’s voice changed again, but it is not the resounding of a higher being’s voice. It is icy, now. Unforgiving, beckoning, and oozing with anathema. Phil turned around, wrapping his arms around Technoblade. Herobrine was setting a curse upon them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The voices of the other, come to me—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Herobrine, no—” Phil tried to say. He was silenced by the pure malice emanating from the god. He had no choice but to listen as Herobrine cursed them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And bring forth the pain of hearing, the mutilation of the mind, and spoil the fruits of thought borne within the ascended soul of The Blood God,” Herobrine’s voice echoed through their home, the man’s face torn open into a crazed, wide-eyed stare at the heavens above. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil recoiled at the words. Herobrine wasn’t just cursing them. The god was cursing Technoblade, and him alone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I offer my body. My soul. My life, beyond the three bestowed upon me by the gods,” Herobrine had given Phil another stare, victorious, like he had been waiting years for this moment. Phil supposed he must have.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Amen,” Herobrine finished, closing his eyes as he crumbled into nothing but soul sand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The house was deathly silent. Phil was still. The sand is blown into the corners by a small gust of wind.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A second passes. Then three. Then—</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Techno had let out a gut-wrenching screech. Words left his mouth, but they were indecipherable. The only phrase Phil managed to catch was, “I hear voices.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil and Technoblade leave the home. They find a snowy biome nearby and build a new house there, with uneven blocks of cobblestone and ugly pale birch. Techno always seemed calmer amongst the cold. They spend a year there, with Phil aiding Techno whenever the voices struck.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They receive letters from Tubbo, Tommy and Wilbur. They had arrived to the Dream SMP safely. They were well. They were safe. Phil is content.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They are sent more letters. Techno learns to live with the voices. More years pass. Phil builds a new home at the edge of the snowy hills, closer to the grassy plains. This one is better, with walls of redwood and acacia wood flooring. Techno stays in the snowy biome. Herobrine’s curse is pushed to the back of their minds. Phil is satisfied.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilbur tells him of a revolution in one of his letters, how he and his brothers are willing to fight for their freedom. Techno leaves, to offer them some support. Phil is alone, but confident in his sons.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Months pass. The letters come less and less. The final letter arrives late, dating back weeks. Wilbur tells him of a war. Phil flies to the SMP. Phil is afraid.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil sees his sons again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil kills Wilbur. He hears from Technoblade that he had been forced to shoot a rocket at Tubbo. Phil remembers the curse.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tommy betrays them. Technoblade grows colder. Phil is angry. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tommy is sick. They travel back to their old home. Phil wants to save him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tommy is dead. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Phil realizes that the curse had come, and he had failed to stop it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His son is dead.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Wilbur cannot move.</p><p>His fingers, like carved marble lay on Tommy’s chest. His still, idle chest. And his brother’s eyes are drawn to a close, except for his left eye, left blankly staring at the ceiling due to the flower sprouted from his iris. Not moving.</p><p>He cannot be dead.</p><p>Wilbur hears Technoblade mutter, “Why did he say Dream?”</p><p>Wilbur offers no response, and simply stares at his brother’s corpse. Techno leans forward, pushing his fingers against Tommy’s neck, searching for the beat of a pulse. There’s nothing. No movement. The piglin withdraws his fingers and looks up at Wilbur.</p><p>“Why did he say Dream?” Techno reiterates. Wilbur takes note of his anger, fiery and loud. Wilbur doesn’t speak.</p><p>“For Prime’s sake, say <em>something</em>, Will!” Techno yells, voice cracking as he shoves at Wilbur’s chest. Wilbur lets him, and the ghost nudges back without a word. Wilbur stares at Tommy’s pale and sallow skin, looking like a light silver.</p><p>Wilbur finds no change. No change in the afterlife, no extra presence felt from the other side. Simply empty. Strange. Wilbur’s brows furrow.</p><p>
  <em>Where was Tommy’s soul?</em>
</p><p>“I’ll kill that bastard,” Techno swears, grabbing his sword, “I don’t know what Dream has to do with this, but he—”</p><p>“Tommy’s not dead,” Wilbur whispers, finally moving. He runs his hand through Tommy’s hair. Softly and painfully slow, as if he were touching spider-silk.</p><p>Techno turns to look at him, scowling deeply, “Don’t say the shit to me, Wilbur. I don’t want to—”</p><p>“He’s not dead, Techno,” Wilbur adamantly replies, keeping his voice low. As if Tommy were simply sleeping, and Wilbur had to be careful to keep him from waking up. But he must be sleeping, right? If Wilbur couldn’t feel his soul in the afterlife, then his soul should still be in his body, he should still be alive—</p><p>Wilbur absentmindedly reaches a hand towards Tommy’s neck, ready to check for a pulse. Techno grabs Wilbur’s shoulders before he can get any closer, and Wilbur finally looks up at the man, “I said, stop it. He’s not breathing. He’s got no pulse. Stop lying to yourself and just admit that he’s—”</p><p>“Not dead,” Wilbur breathes, “H-He’s… I can’t feel him in the afterlife.”</p><p>“What?” Techno asks, his wrath finally simmering down. Wilbur removes the piglin’s hands from his shoulder.</p><p>“His soul isn’t in the afterlife.”</p><p>“Then where is it?” Techno implores sharply, his hands beginning to shake.</p><p>Tommy must have been in so much pain. At least when Wilbur died, Phil had made sure to do it quickly, straight to the heart. Wilbur felt nothing in his last moments, only the warm embrace of his father. But Tommy felt fear. Felt blindness overtaking him. And blood spewing from a torn wound. He must have been so scared—</p><p>“Wilbur!” The piglin yells, trying to get the specter’s attention, “<em>Where the fuck is he?</em>”</p><p>Wilbur closes his eyes, “I-I… don’t know.”</p><p>“You— <em>don’t know?” </em>Techno snaps, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. His mouth is drawn into a straight line, and he sends Wilbur a glare, “He… where could he be? Is it normal for ghosts to appear somewhere else?”</p><p>Wilbur feels like he’s floating. Is he going into shock? He can’t tell. Looking up at the piglin, he gives the only reply he can think of, “I don’t know.”</p><p><em>“Stop fucking saying that!” </em>Techno roars, closing his hands around Wilbur’s neck and pinning the ghost against the floor. Wilbur doesn’t even struggle, limp in Techno’s hold. Everything feels number than it usually does. Techno doesn’t tighten his grip, simply holding the ghost down. There are tears going down the piglin’s face.</p><p>“Techno!” Someone yells. There is no anger behind the voice.</p><p>Wilbur and Technoblade look up at the same time, and see Philza at the doorway, the man’s large wings blocking the light from entering through the door.</p><p>“P-Phil,” Wilbur begins, but is cut off by Techno leaving the floor with a loud grunt and running towards Phil.</p><p>Without any preamble, Techno closes the distance between him and Phil, and punches the man square on the face.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Technoblade is furious.</p><p>Wilbur was acting like an idiot, his mind drifting about, not even focusing on the fact that Tommy was dead. And anger was simple, much simpler than acknowledging the fact that they had failed in saving the poor kid. That Techno hadn’t gotten to say—</p><p>Say <em>what?</em></p><p>Something. Anything.</p><p>Techno groans. Fuck this. And now here was Phil, arriving late. Techno knows it isn’t the man’s fault. Knows this is all just irrational. But Tommy was dead for some reason, even though they had made it to the house. Why hadn’t Tommy been healed?</p><p>
  <em>Why did he say Dream?</em>
</p><p>Questions, irrational. Anger, irrational. Technoblade was being irrational right now. Especially as he bolts to Phil, ready to do—</p><p>Something. Anything.</p><p>He takes in the way Phil’s face contorts into shock as Techno raises his fist. It feels nice, the pressure against his knuckles as it meets with the flesh of Phil’s cheek. It’s comforting. That comfort slips away the moment Phil steadies himself, directing this look of pure sadness and despair up at Techno.</p><p>And Technoblade feels guilt soar through him. He notices how much his hands are trembling.</p><p>Techno recalls how much he had prayed to the gods for Tommy to meet a bitter end. When the piglin had locked himself in his room for days after Tommy had betrayed him. How Techno had cursed at himself for opening up, for trusting the kid again even after everything.</p><p>Tommy was a hero, wasn’t he? All heroes deserved painful ends.</p><p>And Techno thought he had wanted this. Wanted Tommy to die in pain and suffering. But now, with the poor boy motionless on the floor, Techno cannot begin to fathom death.</p><p>Techno has seen corpses before. Of course he had. Ever since he was a child, he had been among the ranks of soldiers, fighting wars and killing with orders. And he was used to seeing men sprawled across the ground, dead and bloodied and in pain.</p><p>But Tommy was different. It made Techno’s body quiver just staring at him. He didn’t belong to death. He <em>shouldn’t</em> belong to death.</p><p>“W-Why didn’t it work, Phil?” Technoblade begs, his voice coming out like a whisper. He wants an answer. Something to grasp onto, anything to explain why Tommy hadn’t been healed. Why he wasn’t in the afterlife.</p><p>Something. Anything.</p><p>Phil says nothing. Techno just now catches the way the man is sobbing. Techno feels tears running down his cheeks as well.</p><p>There are no words spoken between them when Phil steps towards his son’s lifeless body. Barely even an intake of breath as Wilbur finally breaks, sobbing relentlessly over Tommy’s chest, begging and praying for the boy to get up. Nothing in the breeze as Techno hunkers down and embraces Tommy’s cold frame, whispering words. Not of apology or forgiveness or even anger. Just senseless words.</p><p>Something. Anything.</p><p>They stay like that for hours.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Phil blamed himself.</p><p>Not the wars, not Dream, not the discs, or even Herobrine.</p><p>It was always him.</p><p>Tommy, limp in his arms. Phil struggles to remember what Tommy’s last words to him were. He can’t think straight, Phil’s mind focused solely on crying and pulling Tommy close. His son must have been in so much pain.</p><p>And he wasn’t even there to comfort him.</p><p>Phil feels like dying. His chest hurts. And he realizes that he’s having trouble breathing, and he can’t tell if it’s because of the sobs leaving his throat or the hiccups pushing out of his chest or if it’s a mixture of the two. Anguish wracks through him, so cold and sharp, like a knife being plunged into his heart over and over, the pain so powerful that he is sure he will die.</p><p>But he can’t die. Not now. Not when Wilbur and Techno need him. Not for when he returns to the Dream SMP, and he has to tell Tubbo the news.</p><p>He can save his death for later. For when Tubbo takes his revenge. He can give the boy that, at least.</p><p>And Phil had been so close. To something akin to forgiveness. But like sand slipping through his fingers, he had lost all of that. This hurt is familiar, almost. A bit similar to when he had stabbed Wilbur in the chest.</p><p>It was the hurt of a son’s death.</p><p>But Tommy was so young. And there was no shortage of tension between him and Phil, unlike Wilbur who had always stood on the side Phil happened to take as well.</p><p>Tommy had been different. He fought for battles that Phil was against. Defended others who had wronged Philza. And Phil hated Tommy for that. Had felt betrayed when Tommy left him and Techno behind. Had felt fear and worry when Tommy gave everything up for simple things like discs or land.</p><p>But Phil never wanted this. Never wanted to see him dead. Always hoped that one day everything could be fixed. But that was selfish too. Because Phil never even tried. Never attempted to fix the rift in between them earlier. Waited for something to come and fix it all for him.</p><p>And when Phil had almost repaired everything, it had already been too late.</p><p>This felt as if it wasn’t meant to be. This exit wasn’t befitting for Tommy. After everything that the boy had fought for, everything that he had done for his friends and all the trouble he had brewed— only for him to die at the hands of an obscure sickness.</p><p>It wasn’t right.</p><p>Tommy deserved better. He deserved to live a long life. Prime, he was still a kid. Tommy had deserved to grow up, and live a happy life, and get better and heal. Not this. Never this.</p><p>“Tommy. Tommy,” Phil calls. He doesn’t know why he calls his name like that. The name is like a chant, and memories of him saying his son’s name flows through his mind like tsunami tides. A name that made Phil feel joy, love, pain, anger and everything.</p><p>Tommy made him feel everything.</p><p>Tommy was everything.</p><p>Tommy had been everything.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Dream?”</em>
</p><p>Weightless, is the first sensation.</p><p>Second is the warmth.</p><p>Third is the light.</p><p>Tommy opens his eyes.</p><p>Like air, he drifts. Sparing a glance to his surroundings, he finds no ceiling, nor a floor. Simply space. White, with light somewhere streaking in. Warmth, comforting and soft. He hasn’t felt this calm in a long time.</p><p>
  <em> “Hello, Tommy.”</em>
</p><p>The voice is airy and lilting. Tommy turns around and is faced with a stark white mask, smiling at him. Tommy had seen that mask before. When he was in the brink of death.</p><p>That’s right, Tommy was dead.</p><p>“Dream,” Tommy exhales. He usually felt fear when seeing that man. However, right now, he felt nothing but calm within his chest.</p><p><em>“Not quite so, little one,”</em> the man replies. Tommy’s brows furrow. Dream didn’t talk like that, especially to Tommy out of all people. Then, he takes note of the stranger’s long green robes, radiating with gold and the glow of something otherworldly. And there’s the halo around the man’s head, bright with an ethereal radiance.</p><p>“You’re… <em>Him</em>,” Tommy whispers. He’s heard of the god before. The highest of beings. The protector. The deity who had been created by Prime himself. Tommy doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been in the presence of such a supreme being.</p><p><em>“That’s right,”</em> the god replies, and Tommy can hear the amusement in his voice.</p><p>Tommy swallows, “Am I… in the afterlife?”</p><p>The god shakes his head, and the light of his halo reflects into Tommy’s eyes, <em>“No. You are amongst the gods. You are within the heavens.”</em></p><p>Trying not to shake, Tommy asks, “The <em>heavens? </em>W-Why… am I here?<em>”</em></p><p>Tommy remembers how Techno had told him about his ascension. Technoblade had been brought to the heavens and had spoken to the gods as well. Tommy wonders if he is being ascended right now.</p><p>Bringing a hand onto Tommy’s shoulder, the god leans down and responds in a gentle voice<em>, “Many people favor you, Tommy. And your family as well.”</em></p><p>“My family…” Tommy mutters. He suddenly remembers. The sickness. The flowers. The house. “I died. I wasn’t s-supposed to die…” he frowns, looking up at the god. They had made it to the house. He was supposed to live.</p><p><em>“Ah, yes. The Flower Head,”</em> the god muses, <em>“That home of yours died a long, long time ago. Not when you left your home— but when you and your family drifted apart.”</em></p><p>“What?” Tommy can’t believe this. He was doomed from the start, “So… there’s no cure?”</p><p><em>“Oh, there is,”</em> the god replies in a kind whisper, <em>“But I’m afraid it doesn’t lie amongst the dilapidated remains of that little house.”</em></p><p>They are silent for a moment. Tommy knows. He isn’t stupid. The cure, it was—</p><p>It had never had anything to do with the house. It was Wilbur, Tubbo, Technoblade and Phil. It had always been his family. His fondest memories didn’t lie with the house. His happiest moments were when Wilbur played songs on his guitar for him on the porch.</p><p>When he and Tubbo got into trouble for venturing too deep into the woods. Were when Techno and him sparred at the back of the house. Was when Phil cleaned up Tommy’s scrapes and made them all dinner and smiled at him with that caring look in his eye and—</p><p>“What…now?” Tommy feels stupid. Asking redundant questions and begging for answers.</p><p>The god hums, and it’s eerily similar to how Dream does it.</p><p><em>“I’m sending you back, little one,”</em> the god raises a hand and dances his fingers in the air, <em>“I’m giving you another chance.”</em></p><p>“W-Why? I—” Tommy begins, but is silenced when the god turns to him, staring at him with the painted eyes of his mask.</p><p><em>“Your story is not done, Tommy. You have done much to this land. If you were to die… well—”</em> the god ponders his words for a second, <em>“Many beings from the beyond would not be pleased.”</em></p><p>Tommy doesn’t quite understand what the god meant by that, nor whatever ‘beings from the beyond’ were. Tommy didn’t implore the god to explain further, though. What mattered to him was the prospect of living once more.</p><p>“So… I’m special, then?” Tommy asks.</p><p><em>“That’s something for you to determine,”</em> the god says. Tommy can almost hear his smile, <em>“You have the choice, of course. Would you like me to revive you?”</em></p><p>Tommy falls into silence.</p><p>He could choose death. To be one with the darkness, no longer having to see his family, no longer surrounded by the trifling concerns of war and enemies and betrayals. He could move on, now. Somewhere where he’d never feel pain or sadness ever again.</p><p>But there was the world below.</p><p>For the first time in a long time, Tommy isn’t met with memories of his past. Doesn’t even think about his pleasant childhood and his comforting childhood home. No, he instead recalls the now. The present.</p><p>Tommy recalls Tubbo, who he had promised he would return to. He thinks about Wilbur, and the butterflies and how Wilbur had apologized to him for keeping secrets and Tommy had mumbled, <em>‘Not now.’</em></p><p>There was a later. They had to finish that conversation.</p><p>And then there was Technoblade. How the piglin had ruthlessly fought through the Nether for him. Tommy wanted to know why the man had done so. Wondered why Techno cared so much. Tommy can just barely remember Techno’s final words to him, before Tommy had slipped into the heavens.</p><p><em>‘Tommy,’</em> the piglin had called. As if he wanted to say more. Tommy needed to know what Technoblade wanted to say to him.</p><p>And then there was Philza. Tommy’s father. Their promise to one another. That they would speak again. That Tommy wouldn’t die. They had so much to talk about. And Tommy wanted to see Phil again, despite everything.</p><p><em>“I’ll heal you— fully,”</em> the god says, interrupting Tommy’s thoughts, <em>“You won’t need to look for the cure once you’ve been revived. Is that alright?”</em></p><p>It’s as if the god had read Tommy’s mind. But Tommy finds that he doesn’t care. He didn’t want to fix everything between him and his family so that he could survive.</p><p>He wanted to fix things with his family because he wanted to. There was no reason. He simply wanted to.</p><p>And that was motivation enough for Tommy.</p><p>“Yes, it’s fine,” Tommy says, “I want to be revived again.”</p><p>The god puts a gentle hand on Tommy’s head, <em>“Very good, Tommy.”</em></p><p>The god snaps his fingers, and Tommy finds his vision blurring. The air around him begins to change. Before he is sent back, returning to the earth below, he spares a few more words to the god.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>And like a whisper, breathed against Tommy’s ear as his soul is placed back into his body, <em>“Good luck.”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p>Tommy gasps painfully.</p><p>Life courses back into his body. And three figures go still around him.</p><p>The first one to speak is Tommy, as always.</p><p>“Hey—” he begins sheepishly, a little afraid and not knowing what else to say. He’s cut off by a bone-crushing hug. Phil, Techno and Wilbur put all their weight onto him when they embrace him, and it knocks the wind from Tommy’s chest. It knocks the flowers from his head, as well.</p><p>As if the flowers had never even been a part of him, they wilt and crumble off his skull, their petals and short green stems dropping onto the floorboards. The flower grown from his eye falls to the floor too, leaving a milky white blind eye in its place.</p><p>“Tommy. Tommy—” Wilbur cries, running his fingers through Tommy’s hair, pushing the flowers to the ground even further, “Fuck. Fuck. I-I— you, I can’t believe—”</p><p>“M-Me too,” Tommy sighs, relaxing into his family’s embrace, “Me too.”</p><p>“H-How— where did you— W-Wilbur said you weren’t in the damn afterlife, so where—” Techno stutters, clutching Tommy’s shoulder. It’s in no way rough or painful. Instead, it’s grounding and reassuring. Tommy buries his head deeper against Techno’s chest.</p><p>“I was…” Tommy finds that he can barely recall where he had been. He remembered speaking to someone, of course. He remembers their conversation in great detail. About the cure and the revival. But he couldn’t seem to make sense of who that person’s identity was or even where they were, “I… don’t know.”</p><p>Techno sighs, but there’s no anger in his tone, simply relief, “I guess it doesn’t matter. At least you’re alive,” and there’s so much care and reassurance in the piglin’s eyes that Tommy has to look away.</p><p>“Oh, Tommy,” Phil says, cupping Tommy’s cheek. Tommy notices how the man is covered in blood. No doubt from the pillagers he had fought, “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” Phil laughs. Tommy smiles in return, even though he’s sure that the man isn’t exaggerating.</p><p>“I promised, didn’t I?” Tommy says, taking in Phil’s thankful smile.</p><p>They had so much to talk about. So much to say. But for now, this was enough.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>They decide to stay in the house for a bit.</p><p>Tommy’s leg was still heavily wounded, and they only had a horse to travel with. Phil says that they might as well spend a few days at the house, just to fix up Tommy’s leg and for Techno and Phil to build a new horse cart and look for any supplies left in the house that they could use.</p><p>Wilbur finds it strange, to be in their home again.</p><p>The last time he had seen it was when the god Herobrine had come and terrorized them. He barely had any time to pack anything. Strolling through the hallways, looking for anything that might ease Tommy’s wound, he finds his old guitar, leaning against the cobweb-filled room he had used to call his own.</p><p>The room looks terrible, with the roof sagging a bit and the bed moldy and water-damaged from rain that had drifted through his window, still drawn open from when they had left the house. Against the wall is his guitar, this one lacking the chipped edges and fretboard warped from use, all of which were features that his newer guitar in L’manberg had.</p><p>Wilbur drifts to it, and with his numb fingers, strums the strings a bit. The guitar echoes out the beginnings of a chord before abruptly ending, the aged strings snapping at his touch. Wilbur laughs a bit. Sparing the guitar a final look, he leaves the room.</p><p>Wilbur manages to find a health potion stored within one of the kitchen cupboards, old but still effective. Grabbing the dusty glass, he sets off to the depths of the house in search of Tommy.</p><p>Tommy was in Technoblade’s old room, since his own was completely unstable, with the flooring having gone slack and about ready to collapse. Techno’s old room had always been sparse, due to how much the piglin was always travelling, but right now it seemed even more desolate than before.</p><p>The only remaining piece of furniture within the room was the old bed’s blanket, lain on the floor. Phil didn’t want Tommy sleeping on a bed that was probably holding an entire nest of bed bugs and termites, so they threw it out.</p><p>Tommy was currently lying on the blanket, sleeping from when Phil had re-sewn his wound with some thread and a needle he had found and boiled clean. Wilbur didn’t want to wake him, so he simply sets the health pot on the floor next to Tommy’s head, and prepares to leave.</p><p>“Will?”</p><p>Wilbur stops in his tracks, and glances down at Tommy. He still wasn’t used to seeing him without the flowers. Of course, it was a breath of fresh air. The sight of Tommy’s blinded left eye left a sting in Wilbur’s chest, though.</p><p>“Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Wilbur says softly. Tommy shakes his head in lieu of a reply.</p><p>“I was already awake,” Tommy explains after a short while. The kid doesn’t even need to say anything further to get Wilbur to sit down. Wilbur can tell that Tommy wanted to speak with him.</p><p>“Wilbur…” Tommy starts, sitting up a bit.</p><p>“Yes?” Wilbur’s head is already running with different responses for any question Tommy might pose.</p><p>“Do you want to be revived?”</p><p>Wilbur stills. That was the last question he had expected Tommy to ask at this time.</p><p>“I… don’t think I’m quite ready,” Wilbur whispers. He felt selfish voicing his thoughts out loud. Of course he wanted to stay dead. Because it meant not having to see the consequences of his actions. It meant not having to face everyone he had failed and betrayed. Prime, what was he supposed to say to Niki and Fundy?</p><p>Tommy wastes no second with a response, “Will you ever be ready?”</p><p>There is no anger or malice in his tone. Wilbur shrinks into himself, “I—”</p><p>And he looks up and sees Tommy. Tommy, wounded and alive after having to deal with the Flower Head. Tommy, who he had promised he would take care of. Tommy, who he had abused and treated horribly during their stay in Pogtopia. And even though Wilbur knew he was sick, he knew that was no excuse for him to treat Tommy that way.</p><p>Wilbur wanted to fix it. Wanted to fix everything. But Prime, he didn’t fucking know how.</p><p>“D-Do I… make you happy, Tommy?” Wilbur asks. He hated himself for evading Tommy’s question, but he needed to know. Needed to know if Tommy even wanted him alive again.</p><p>Tommy’s eyebrows furrow down. He looks sad, for a short moment, “Y-You—” he sighs, “You know how much you mean to me, Wilbur. And y-you know how much you’ve— you’ve…”</p><p>He trails off with a small hiccup, erupting into tears. Wilbur jolts back in shock at the sight. So far, this wasn’t going the way he had hoped. Gathering his courage, Wilbur draws himself closer to the boy and embraces him. Tommy doesn’t move away. Wilbur relishes in the way that Tommy’s hair brushes against his cheek, with no flowers obstructing the way.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Tommy. I’m so fucking sorry—” Wilbur mutters. He’s crying too, he notices. He doesn’t know how to fix it all. An apology can only do so little. He wishes he could do more.</p><p>“I-I don’t hate you, but you’ve…” Tommy shudders as hiccups and sobs burst out of his chest, Wilbur rubbing his back, “— Y-You’ve done so much horrible shit and I d-don’t know if I should— if it’s right for me to f-forgive you, or—”</p><p>Wilbur shushes him, “<em>Shh.</em> Tommy,” he coos, leaning back a bit to wipe away Tommy’s tears, “You don’t need to forgive me—”</p><p>“But I want to!” Tommy exclaims, and he sounds so young again, it makes Wilbur’s heart crack, “I <em>want</em> to, but it hurts so much, Will. E-Everything that happened to us in Pogtopia, the dynamite, the Flower Head, and the—”</p><p>Tommy’s starting to breathe a little too fast, and Wilbur rushes to calm him down, “Breathe, Tommy. Breathe,” he says as Tommy gulps in the air and lets it fill his lungs. Prime, Wilbur felt terrible.</p><p>Their relationship was like a fragile glass plane, and while Wilbur used to think that it was as strong as steel and that nothing could come between them, he’d learned long ago that it had already been damaged and fragmented.</p><p>The question was whether that glass could still be repaired. Wilbur didn’t want Tommy to be hurt anymore.</p><p>And he knows now. Maybe he’s always known.</p><p>He had to let Tommy go.</p><p>“Don’t you ever worry about forgiveness, Tommy,” Wilbur smiles at him, despite the tears going down his face. This is what needed to be done. This was how Wilbur would fix it all, “Don’t hurt yourself wondering about me. I want you to move on. I want you to heal—”</p><p>And Wilbur takes in the way Tommy is looking at him. That look of pure attentiveness, as if every word leaving Wilbur’s mouth carried with it the secrets to the universe. Wilbur doesn’t want him to suffer any more. And if that meant leaving him in more capable hands, then so be it.</p><p>“If the idea of resurrecting me hurts you, then you don’t need to do it, Tommy,” Wilbur continues, cupping his brother’s face with his hand, “Heal yourself first. Learn to live happy again. And when you’ve remembered how to smile with no hurt, and when your heart is clearer, then we can talk about revivals.”</p><p>“— And I’m sure that by then, I’ll know what to say to our old friends when I see them. Perhaps by then, I’ll be able to fix things with them too,” Wilbur, for the first time in a long time, feels happy. Not the happiness he thought he had in the afterlife, when he was hiding away from everyone. Now, he had a promise.</p><p>They had time. Time to think and to recover. And that’s all they needed.</p><p>“I’ll be watching over you from the afterlife, Tommy,” Wilbur smiles, and he thinks that he’s trembling, adrenaline from his words and his promises crashing against him.</p><p>“And I’ll make sure that Ghostbur takes good care of you,” he laughs a bit at that. Wilbur didn’t know much about the other ghost, but he’s sure he’s a more soothing presence for Tommy to be around, rather than himself.</p><p> There is silence, and Wilbur aches as he waits for Tommy’s reply.</p><p>After a short while, Tommy’s face cracks into a large smile. It’s blinding as his brother speaks, in a voice that carried with it promises of a better future, “I’ll be waiting for you, Wilbur.”</p><p>Wilbur ruffle’s Tommy’s hair with a chuckle. Despite it all, despite everything— he was finally able to see Tommy happy again.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Two days pass, and Philza realizes how happy he’s been these days.</p><p>Tommy’s leg is healing, much faster now that Techno was able to find their old brewing stand and had made a few more health potions for the boy. Everything felt much calmer, now. Without any flowers to worry about, and without the looming dread of Tommy getting hurt— it all seemed so tranquil.</p><p>Phil could tell that there was something different, too. It was in the way that Wilbur spoke to Tommy, with such ease and without any tension. Phil almost smiles thinking about it. They must have fixed things. He was happy for them.</p><p>Currently, Technoblade was off in the Nether, slaying some blazes for more health potions. Wilbur was in their old bee farm, checking to see if the hives were still there and if they could harvest any honey. And so, Phil was alone, sitting by himself outside on the porch, on their old wooden patio chairs, the backs a little rotten and cracked.</p><p>Well, he wasn’t absolutely alone. There was Tommy, he supposed.</p><p>The boy was ahead of him, leaning against the porch’s fronts steps. Tommy’s eyes were closed, his chin raised up high as the wind blew past him and swept up his hair. He looked much more at peace, nowadays. More mature, almost.</p><p>They had been quiet, barely carrying any conversations between one another since Phil patched up his leg. The quiet made Phil uneasy, his foot tapping unrelentingly against the floor as he waited for something to happen. He didn’t want to force the boy into speaking with him. So, he waited.</p><p>It’s only when the wind picks up again and the trees bow against the wind, that Tommy decides to speak.</p><p>“I’m not stupid, Phil.”</p><p>Tommy’s looking at him now. There’s something about his stare that makes him look older. Phil draws out the silence between them as he processes Tommy’s words.</p><p>“Why… do you feel the need to clarify that?” Phil asks tentatively. His voice comes out as a whisper. It feels as if Tommy’s scolding him. Philza almost laughs. He’s centuries old, yet he finds himself speechless in front of a child. Then again, this wasn’t just any child. It was his child. It was Tommy.</p><p>“Because I know that’s how you think of me,” Tommy explains, moving to get up. He stumbles a bit as he does so. He probably wasn’t used to walking about with one eye missing, “When you see me; fighting for Manberg and the discs— you think that stuff’s all useless. And you think I’m stupid for ever fighting for them, don’t you?”</p><p>Tommy settles down on the chair next to Phil, making the man go carefully still. He mustn’t lie. Phil promised Tommy that he would never lie to him again.</p><p>“Yes,” Phil admits, “Yes. I did think that.”</p><p>And Phil hated that. Phil wasted no more time to tell him why.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, he continues, “I hated it, Tommy. Hate how you think such futile things like government and music were matters that you should give your life to. Were affairs that warranted the loss of your family.”</p><p>“And I-I was scared, Tommy. Scared that you would end up like…” Phil trails off, blinking his eyes closed as memories of dynamite and a little tunnel in the ground leading to a button started soaring through his mind, “I was scared that you’d end up like Wilbur.”</p><p>“So you left me alone?” Tommy muses, staring at the spearmint-green tops of the trees.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Phil breathes, the apology rushing out of him in a single breath, “Fuck, Tommy. I’m… I’m so fucking sorry,” Phil buries his face in his palms, his tears seeping through the spaces between his fingers.</p><p>“I was so stupid. So, so— <em>stupid.</em> And I-I was so angry— so mad that you left me and Techno b-behind and I thought I w-would…” he can barely speak through the cries leaving his throat. Can barely muster to think through the heat and sting around his eyes.</p><p>“I-I’m sorry. For everything. For leaving you and for doing nothing and for the lies— I’m just… I’m <em>sorry</em>,” he repeats, as if that could change anything. Phil was shaking, now, “And you don’t need to forgive me, Tommy. I just… I need you to know I’m sorry.”</p><p>“— And you need to know that you’ll always be my son, if you’ll have me. You’ll <em>always</em> be my son,” Phil sobs, finally looking up and staring Tommy in the eye. No matter if Tommy hated him. No matter if Tommy never forgave him. He’d always see him as his son.</p><p>“I know, dad,” Tommy announces, looking up at Phil with watery eyes, his mouth trembling. And he looks surprised, as if he didn’t expect for the title to slip past his mouth like that. Phil can no longer hold back his tears when he calls him that.</p><p>“Please, Tommy. Take care of yourself,” Phil begs, hoping and praying that Tommy would heed him. Tommy needed people. Not discs or countries, “Choose people. Choose <em>yourself</em>.”</p><p>Tommy jolts a bit at those words, staring at Phil with a type of wonder in his eyes that Phil didn’t understand. And Phil freezes, can barely even breathe when Tommy drags him close and into an embrace. And this embrace was different.</p><p>Different from the one they had shared when Tommy returned to life and they all trembled from relief. Different from when Tommy had gotten shot with that arrow, and Phil carried him in his arms as he cried.</p><p>“I will,” Tommy swears, his head against Phil’s shoulder. Phil can feel him sniffling around his words, “Thank you,” Tommy whispers, shuddering a bit as a gust of wind blows past them.</p><p>Phil’s shaky hands come to rest upon Tommy’s back, and they cry and stay in each other’s arms for so long that Phil’s limbs begin to numb. But they make no effort to move, because this moment felt special.</p><p>They have embraced many times before. From Tommy’s childhood until these recent days, Phil found himself always holding his son in his arms. But this one embrace that they shared, under the roof of their old home, tears falling down their faces— it didn’t just serve as a source of comfort.</p><p>It was repair. It was a remedy.</p><p>And it didn’t need any words.</p><p>Tommy didn’t need to say anything more to him. Didn’t need to elucidate if whether or not he’d forgiven Phil. All they needed was the assurance of family. The vow that no matter what, Phil would always care about him. That Phil would always love him.</p><p>That come what may, they would always be father and son.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Technoblade huffed as he stuffed their remaining belongings into the horse cart.</p><p>This one was new, of course. Built from the old oak trees surrounding their home. Techno and Phil had whittled and sanded and hammered down the wood until it seemed to resemble a cart that they could actually use to get back to the SMP. And now that Tommy’s wound was all healed, now seemed to be the perfect time for their return.</p><p>Tommy.</p><p>Technoblade still hadn’t spoken to him. He had avoided it, almost. Phil and Wilbur had done something, he was sure of it. Had probably sat down and had a long conversation with the boy, like how normal people were supposed to fix their problems. But Techno wasn’t like normal people.</p><p>He wallowed and snapped and stayed quiet. Because Techno didn’t like reaching out to others. He didn’t like trusting, because everybody he had opened himself up to always ended up leaving him or betraying him or trying to kill him. All he had was Phil, in the end.</p><p>But that was the thing.</p><p>He wanted Tommy, too. Despite how much that idiot had hurt him, Technoblade still wanted peace between them. And he hated it. He shouldn’t want to forgive, he—</p><p>“Hey, Big T.”</p><p>It was Tommy. Only he would call Techno by that ridiculous nickname. Sighing, Techno slams the remaining supplies in his hands with a little too much force onto the back of their horse cart.</p><p>“You’ve come to give me a long heartfelt talk, haven’t you?” Technoblade drawls, turning around to face the boy. It was pleasant, seeing Tommy without those infuriating flowers. Techno would never say that out loud, though.</p><p>Tommy laughs a bit, shrill and painful in the ears before he responds, “Yeah, I guess so.”</p><p>Reclining against the side of the horse cart, Techno gives him a blank stare. Tommy doesn’t seem to mind as he saunters over to the piglin, hoisting himself up into the horse cart and sitting by the edge, his legs dangling off.</p><p>“Tommy, I—” Technoblade brings up a hand to pinch at the space between his brows. He wasn’t wearing his skull mask right now, but Prime he wished he was. Techno much preferred it when nobody could see his face or tell what he was thinking.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Tommy interrupts, shrinking into himself. Technoblade’s eyes widen, and his mouth hangs open in shock as Tommy continues, “For betraying you and stealing your stuff— I know how wrong it was for me to do that.”</p><p>“I know that we’re different. I mean, we always end up fighting each other,” Tommy says with a sad chuckle, and Techno holds back an impulse to put a hand on his shoulder, “I shouldn’t have left you alone. That—”</p><p>“Tommy,” Technoblade says, finally giving in and putting a reassuring hand on Tommy’s shoulder. It reminds him of when Tommy used to stay at his cabin, and how Tommy would always fall into silence when Techno did so, listening attentively to anything Technoblade would say.</p><p>Techno takes in a deep breath, “Do you forgive me for destroying L’manberg?”</p><p>Tommy flinches, anger crossing his features for a short second, before sizzling down and admitting, “I don’t… know if I’ll ever forgive you for that.”</p><p>Technoblade hums, “Then you know that what you’d done to me— I can’t… I can’t just forget that, Tommy.”</p><p>Tommy sags a bit, no doubt disappointed. Guilt spreads through Techno’s heart, and he doesn’t let him ponder any longer as he continues, “But I know that you’re just a kid. A kid who makes mistakes. A kid who grew up in war.”</p><p>Tommy may act like an idiot, he may betray him and make the wrong choices, but Technoblade could hardly blame him for that. Techno should know, he grew up in war too. And he knows what it’s like to be a kid, being forced to fight battles. Techno’s made his fair share of mistakes. He couldn’t blame Tommy for doing the same.</p><p>Technoblade had told himself for the longest time that seeing Tommy dead would be a pleasure. But after all of this, after travelling across the land and riding through the Nether— he knew that he was just lying to himself. And though there might have been a time when Techno’s anger knew no bounds, when his everyday thoughts were of revenge and hatred… those emotions felt so tiresome, now.</p><p>Technoblade draws himself closer to the boy, and Tommy’s back goes rigid when he does so, “I know what it’s like. So… I-I’ll…”</p><p>His words fall into silence. He doesn’t quite know how to phrase his words without sounding too soft. Without sounding like he cared too much. But Tommy was giving him that look, that bewildered smile he used to give him whenever he used to speak up for him, or when he’d show Tommy an ounce of physical contact.</p><p>And it amazed Techno, how Tommy could still give him that smile, despite everything they had been through. Despite all the hatred and distrust between them. Despite the Flower Head and even death itself.</p><p>It made Techno forget about his trepidation. It made him want to reveal his truest thoughts to the boy. It made him want to build a future— a future where the two of them were family again. And even though they couldn’t forgive one another, they still cared about each other. What was family for, right?</p><p>“I’ll be here for you,” Techno finally says, trying for the briefest of smiles, “And I’m sorry, too. F-For… everything,” Technoblade wasn’t used to apologies. He hoped that was enough to convey his emotions. And judging from Tommy’s triumphant grin, he guesses that it must have done the trick.</p><p>“We’ll make it up to one another,” Tommy announces, smiling broadly. Techno can’t help but laugh a bit when Tommy continues, “I’ll be sure to come a-running if you need someone to fight on your side, Techno.”</p><p>“I think I’d do better in a fight if I didn’t have you there slowin’ me down,” Technoblade replies with a sneer, making Tommy shout and nearly deafen him with a barrage of swears and curses, thoroughly bringing their tender moment to an end.</p><p>But, as Techno sees the way that Tommy leans in closer than usual, and laughs a little louder and freer than before, the piglin finds that he doesn’t mind as much.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>They were leaving.</p><p>And Tommy remembers how he had felt when he was thirteen, when that stranger he met when he was nine came back and hurt his father and Technoblade. He was terrified, then. When Wilbur grabbed him by the arm and forced Tubbo, Tommy and himself onto the back of their horse, riding away towards the skyline and towards the Dream SMP.</p><p>It all felt so different, now. Tommy was at peace, his mind clearer than it ever had been.</p><p>“Tommy.”</p><p>It’s Wilbur, his voice echoing around Tommy like a cold breeze. The ghost had told Tommy that he was leaving. Now that Tommy was no longer on the brink of death, Wilbur had no connection to the Overworld anymore. His older brother would have to go back to the afterlife. And after saying his goodbyes to Philza and Techno, it was now Tommy’s turn.</p><p>Tommy turns to him, leaning out from the back of the horse cart, drawing himself closer to his brother’s figure, “I’ll see you soon, Wilbur,” he calls, a type of melancholy filling Tommy’s heart. He can’t wait for when the time comes, and their promise is fulfilled. Until then, though; Tommy was satisfied with waiting.</p><p>“See you, Tommy,” and Wilbur puts his freezing arms around Tommy, an acidic tear rolling down his cheek.</p><p>Tommy presses himself closer, and in a small whisper, “I’m proud of you, Wilbur.”</p><p>He truly was. Tommy was happy that Wilbur wanted to grow. Wanted to fix it all. Wanted to come back. He knows how much the ghost hated the idea of revival before. Wilbur laughs as he moves away from the boy. Tommy watches as his brother fades into the scenery, Wilbur’s reply short and carrying a joyful lilt that Tommy had missed hearing.</p><p>“So that’s what that feels like,” Wilbur laughs, his voice dwindling into nothing, the sound of his breath blending into the gusts of wind. The tree branches sway, as if they were waving goodbye. Tommy stares at nothing, simply feeling the air and smelling the wind as he thinks of Wilbur.</p><p>A short while later, Phil walks over to him, “You doing okay, mate?” he sounds a bit worried, so Tommy does his best to quell his anxiety.</p><p>He nods at his father with a thankful albeit wistful smile, “I’m good.”</p><p>Phil sighs in return, relief resting on his face as he lays a hand on Tommy’s head, gentle in a way that makes Tommy smile wider, “Good,” Phil says, going quiet for a short moment before continuing, “What do you think you’ll do once we get back to the SMP?”</p><p>Tommy thinks for a moment. He hadn’t really thought of anything, “I guess I’ll go see Tubbo,” he wonders out loud, “I was thinking of building a hotel, actually,” he chuckles a bit at the idea.</p><p>“A hotel?” Phil smiles, lines of age crinkling around his eyes, “I didn’t expect that.”</p><p>Tommy beams at him, “Eh, just felt like it. You should visit, if it ever gets built.”</p><p>“I’m sure that I will,” Phil nods, walking towards the front of the horse cart and grabbing Carl’s reins. Tommy’s heart fluttered at the thought. He’s missed having conversations like this. Conversations that didn’t deal with life or death, or the subject of trust and hurt. They were speaking just for the hell of it.</p><p>Speaking like how a father and son should.</p><p>“Scoot over, Tommy,” Techno says from beside the horse cart. Tommy inclines his head to face the piglin and falls silent, watching with shocked eyes as Technoblade lifts himself into the back of the horse cart, settling down next to Tommy with a small huff.</p><p>“What?” he snaps, embarrassment clear on his voice when Tommy doesn’t stop looking at him.</p><p>“You’re… not sitting with Phil?” Tommy asks. Techno rolls his eyes so hard Tommy worries that they’ll vanish to the back of his head.</p><p>“I don’t want you sittin’ here all alone,” is all Technoblade replies with, as if that didn’t make Tommy bounce with joy, “I could leave, if you want,” Techno says softly, hesitation marking his tone.</p><p>Tommy quickly reaches out a hand, “No, no! It’s okay,” he smiles teasingly, despite how much he wants to leap from glee, “You can stay.”</p><p>Technoblade responds with a grunt, crossing his arms as he stares out at the foliage. He might be quiet, but Tommy appreciated his presence. Tommy follows in his example and directs his gaze to their house as Phil clicks his heels against Carl’s side, the horse cart beginning to move down the dirt path.</p><p>The figure of their house grows smaller and smaller, its silhouette growing darker and darker until it’s eventually just a speck in Tommy’s vision. He doesn’t notice how he slowly raises a hand, and gives the house a short wave farewell.</p><p>Tommy can’t wait to see Tubbo again. He’s sure that the other boy would fuss and worry about his blinded eye, though. The thought makes Tommy smile a bit. Soon, they would be back at the Dream SMP. And Tommy was sure that new trouble would come. The quiet never lasted on the SMP very long.</p><p>But, as Tommy looked around him, and caught the way that Technoblade was sitting a little closer than needed to Tommy, and the soft pleased whistling coming from Philza as he steered them through the woods, and the cold air that seemed to follow Tommy, blowing through his hair like the way Wilbur would ruffle it—</p><p>He knew that everything was different now. And as they travelled back to the SMP, as Tommy greeted Tubbo with open arms, and as conflicts started and died and pain and comfort swelled across their little country as the days came and went, all Tommy knew was the now.</p><p>Right now, they had promises. They had a future. They had healing.</p><p>And the truth rings out, a truth that had been ringing out since the beginning and until the end:</p><p>
  <em>They had family.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>and that's it!! thank you so much to everyone who left kudos, comments, bookmarking, and simply reading! this is the first fanfic I've ever finished, and writing this taught me so much. This story is officially finished, and I won't be posting any sequels or anything like that. also, yes, that was DreamXD who brought Tommy to life lol. And yes, we are the beings from the beyond haha. </p><p>Alright, here are some of my thoughts:<br/>- I hate that cliche most "hanahaki' fics have, where the characters are basically forced to like each other cuz the other person is dying. this is why I made it so that tommy would be revived by dreamXD. so that tommy would make the conscious choice to fix things.<br/>- Herobrine is in this fic cuz I love it when he shows up in Dream SMP fics lol<br/>- I will be fixing up a few grammatical errors and stuff, since this is beta read by Grammarly haha.<br/>-thank you all once again!!!!</p><p>FINAL EDIT:<br/>Fixed up all the spelling and grammatical errors. This fic is now officially done :))</p>
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